Prometheus
by polotiz
Summary: AU: It was a world away from what she knew - from a big city hospital to a place of concrete, barbed wire and brick. Dr Isles knew it would be a challenge, but never expected it to be anything like this...
1. Chapter 1

**Prometheus**

**Disclaimer: **Oh, no, I don't own these characters, but I wish I did! Thank goodness for Tess Gerritson, and TNT who actually own them and do such an amazing job we can't help but get involved _all the time _:)

**Rating:** T - it's not written yet, but I know this is going to be a dark, dark one. Triggers galore.

**Pairing: **Oh for goodness sake, I can't write anything but Rizzles, but this will be slow, slow slow. So if that doesn't work for you, hit BACK.

**Author's Note:** This is AU. And yes it is the start of something new, but my annoyingly insistent muse started beating me with it two days ago, so to keep me focused on Puzzles my compromise was to start this monster. So here's a long-ish first chapter, let me know what you think, if it's worth building on, because I see it rearing its ugly head over the next several weeks unless someone says stop!

Also, I always try to employ a level of research into anything I write but I do admit to not being an expert on this topic, so I apologise if I am not completely accurate, but I invite you to employ some imagination :)

Tx

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><p>She glanced out of the window. The browns, greens and yellows of the fading fall blurred into one long smudge along the highway, punctuated every so often by flashes of white road posts or the occasional sign.<p>

The woman tucked a lock of hair back behind her ear and shifted in her seat, feeling the cool leather against the back of her knees. It occurred to her to wonder what her parents would think if they knew what she was doing now – they were always supportive of her pursuits within the medical profession, but in a place like this? She wondered if it might be better not to tell them at all. After all, they were in Europe and hadn't visited in years – it would be easy enough to keep from them, even if she was unable to lie.

"So, you from around here?" The driver asked.

Much of the trip had been silent, save for the occasional attempt – like this one – to engage her in conversation. Each time she had provided just enough information to end it.

"I'm from Chicago." She answered.

"Chicago? Seems like an odd job to transfer to."

He seemed nice enough, but she was focused on other things. She certainly understood the comment, and he wasn't the first. When she had told her colleagues at Northwestern Memorial about the transfer, they had regarded her with a good deal of surprise and for those who cared, a good deal of worry.

This wasn't a place for the faint hearted. And although being a qualified trauma surgeon, she had still only recently completed her residency and and even then was at least three years younger than her peers, which meant in a place like this it would be difficult…. And was guaranteed to be dangerous.

But she had accepted the offer. Dangerous or not, she needed the opportunity to get away from her current life. And that was the imperative above everything.

"Miss?"

She jolted out of her reverie with a start. "I'm sorry?"

"I just asked, why you wanted to transfer here."

Sighing, she turned away from the window, lacing her fingers together in her lap. "Chicago wasn't for me." Was all she said.

"Well, don't mind me saying, but this place isn't for you either." She looked up to the rear view mirror to see the deep wrinkles of an older forehead, hair faded white and skin tone well-weathered. He was studying her carefully. "You want to get out of there as quickly as you can."

She returned her attention to the scenery flitting by. The beginnings of a large, orange structure was coming into view ahead, and the woman found herself fidgeting with her hands. She looked down and frowned. She _never _fidgeted.

"It is only a six month contract."

She didn't know why she chose to share that piece of information, perhaps verbalising it made the daunting nature of her destination a little less so.

"Be sure they hold you to it."

As they approached, the faint blur around the structure materialised into two solid sets of rolled barbed wire that was mounted on top of two enormous fences, one inside the other. The car rolled towards a tiny building with a boom gate across the road. This was the first check point, and she found herself smoothing the material of her skirt in anticipation.

The guard at the gate glanced at the licence plate, waved at the driver, and motioned them through. By the time they reached the second gate, reality had set in with a force that drove her heart into her mouth.

There was no going back from here.

A figure came into view near the entrance to the building. He was younger than she expected, handsome, dark hair only barely peppered with flecks of grey. He stood with his hands clasped in front of him, and the moment the car pulled up alongside he reached forward to open the door.

Taking a deep breath through her nose, she curled her fingers around the straps of her handbag.

The door opened, and slowly, carefully, she extricated herself from the warmth of the sedan into the cool November air.

"Welcome to Bedford Hills." The man smiled warmly, and reached out a hand in greeting. The doctor smiled despite herself – his countenance made her feel relaxed – an oddity in a place like this. "I'm Barold Frost, in personnel. But you can call me Barry, or Frost, either is fine."

"Dr Maura Isles." She said, taking his hand. "I thought… I was to be meeting the warden?"

"Mark Jameson, yes.. he-" A shadow passed over Frost's face for a moment, it was only a fleeting one and immediately it was gone, and the smile was back in full. "He wasn't able to make it, asked me to show you around-" His grin widened and he wiggled his eyebrows. "But you're a lot fancier than the doctors we normally get around here. His loss!"

There was something about his charm that was remarkably… disarming. She wasn't threatened by it, nor did she find it inappropriate. It was… comfortable. She gratefully accepted his assistance.

"I know you have a lot of things you're going to want to get caught up on, but Jameson wanted me to show you the infirmary first."

"Of course." She said, and then to the heart of the matter. "How many...inmates...are housed here?"

"853, currently." He led her through the front doors, past what appeared to be several administerial offices, then off to the right of the building. "It is the largest maximum security prison for women in the state of New York."

"I am aware." She said simply. "And the former resident doctor is… on leave?"

"Dr Pike. Yes…" he paused at a door that appeared to lead out into a recreational area. "Apparently, it was the stress."

She found a smirk draw upon her lips as she followed him. If that wasn't motivation enough…

"How long have you been here, Mr Frost?"

"Barry-" He corrected, guiding her past another building, then pausing at another door. "9 years." He said. "Longer than most of the people here." He threw her another grin "But as my wife says, it's a living, and I feel like I'm doing good." Then pushing the door open, he gestured for her to step inside. "We're here."

The entrance to the infirmary was, in the Doctor's opinion, no different to the entrance to a regular cell block.

"The main treatment area is down the corridor." He said. Then smiled. "I've been told, it's the closest thing to a normal ER that doctors get."

Maura nodded. Her attention however was drawn to empty rooms to her left and right, complete with hospital bed fit-out, but empty, and for all intents and purposes, _locked_.

"What about these?"

"Oh, they're for the inmates who… need to be kept separate." He said, "Control room keeps the doors locked, so there's no risk. There are four of them." He motioned to the small panel just to the left of the first door. "You will be issued with an access card so you can enter and exit as you need."

"I see." Was all she said, until she moved past the first set of doors to the second. "There's someone in there."

Lying uncovered on a bed was a woman, in the distinct orange attire of the prisoners of Bedford Hills, a number coolly displayed in a holder across the door; 6559724. Her head was turned away from the door, a dark mane of hair covering any distinguishing features. She was slim, and by Maura's assessment just less than a foot taller than her. Her hands were by her sides, and Maura noticed the thick leather straps encasing her wrists and ankles.

"Who is she?" She asked.

Frost shifted on his feet. "Umm.. I'd avoid that one. At least until you can be briefed.. properly."

The doctor glanced at him in surprise, then back at the figure on the bed. "She's restrained?"

"She has to be. Last orderly nearly lost an eye when they attempted to inject her."

"_Inject_ her?" She asked, incredulously. "With _what_?"

"Sedatives." He shrugged. "It's the only way she can be treated."

The doctor scoffed. "How exactly can a patient be treated when they're too sedated to tell you what is wrong?" She placed her hands on her hips, "Why is she in here?"

"Usual story, got into a fight. A stray fist made it through and she stayed down. A bit unusual for her I must say."

"Where is the other prisoner?"

Frost motioned with his head over to the main area of the infirmary, where two additional beds were occupied. Maura followed his gaze. One had a compression bandage wrapped tightly around her head and a cast on her arm. The other was attached to a respirator, a chest tube clearly visible and in the process of draining bloody fluid away from their thoracic cavity.

"Which one?" She asked

"Both."

"Oh." She steeled herself and turned back to the window, her expression fading to neutral. This was to be her world, and she needed to become accustomed to it. She crossed her arms over her chest, tapped her toe on the ground for a few moments, then pursed her lips.

"Let me in."

"Doctor I really don't think that's a good idea –" Frost said, his voice low. "She's not the first one you want to be treating in here."

"I'm a _Doctor_, Mr Frost." She responded curtly. "I don't pick and choose my patients. Now, have the other two been tended to?"

"Yes."

"And this patient has not?"

"Not yet – we were waiting for-"

"Then open the door."

Frost glanced nervously over his shoulder at the security station that controlled the infirmary and shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "It has to be locked behind you." He said. "Regulations for a… class 4 felon."

Maura glared at him. "And how exactly is that going to affect me," She snapped. "With a patient in restraints?"

She wasn't used to these rules. She was accustomed to seeing people in need of medical care and actually _doing_ something about it. The Doctor flushed with anger. Why on _earth_ had she been recommended for this position if this was what they expected?

With a subtle nod of his head, the magnet disengaged, the door unlocked and the Doctor was able to push it open. It swung silently closed behind her, and she knew the faint click was the sound of the lock re-engaging again. It riled against everything she knew.

Slowly, she stepped inside the bare room, delicately lowering her handbag to the floor by the wall. Her eyes scanned the table of implements in front of her just a few feet from the patient restrained on the bed.

The woman made no move to acknowledge her. She took a deep breath. This was not the same world she left in Chicago, she told herself. Back in that hospital, every patient had a life to return to. Here, it was different. These people were criminals. They knew only the confines of the cells that kept them, and the violent world they continued to exist in.

Still, she had a job, and she believed in doing it a certain way, regardless of the patient. That had been her declaration to the man who had interviewed her for this position… _don't expect me to change my ideals because these people are what society deems as criminal._

That recollection was what gave her the confidence now.

"Hi there." She said to the figure in front of her. "I'm Dr Isles. And you are-"

Silence.

Maura took a deep breath, pulling on a pair of thin latex gloves that lay on the observation table beside the bed. Leaning over, she touched the back of her hand to the woman's forehead, observing the angry bruise on her cheek and seeping cut above her eye. At the same time she slipped her fingers under the restraints, curling them around her slender left wrist.

"Your heart rate is high." She stated, matter-of-factly, "And you have a fever. Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Silence.

"You know, it would make things a lot easier if you helped me out here." She said, "You are obviously effective at defending yourself, judging by the condition of the other two patients I have. I can see the facial lacerations, but your body is telling me you are injured somewhere else, and I would rather not waste my time searching you."

Silence again. And her next six months were laid out for her – this was not what she was used to… she was not used to fighting people to make them heal. She wasn't-

"Right. Side."

She stifled a gasp at the sound. The voice was not what she expected. It was gravelly and deep, but oddly soft. Maura allowed a small breath of achievement to escape her lips and nodded to the wall.

"Okay, now we're getting somewhere." She said. "I'm going to come around to your side and have a look, okay?"

Silence.

"Okay." She answered to herself. It felt better. Slowly, she repositioned herself on the other side of the bed, in better view of the woman but still unable to fully observe her thanks to the expanse of hair over her face. She wondered if it was deliberate, and wasn't game to suggest it.

Instead, she bunched her fingers against the hem of the orange prison shirt and pulled it outward.

"I'm just going to lift your shirt here-" She said.

In truth, she smelled the wound before she saw it. Lifting the regulation orange shirt revealed an attempt at a binding around the woman's midsection, tied at the front. The woman tensed when Maura pulled it open – a painful hiss leaving her lips in the first outward sign she had shown of any discomfort, and it took barely a moment after that for the Doctor to understand why. Packed under a folded piece of what looked like bed linen, was a bleeding, festering, open cut, at least two inches across.

"Oh my god," She breathed. "This is- you've been-" Suddenly she looked up to the glass door, behind which Frost was waiting, nervously. "Get an orderly." She demanded. "I need an IV of penicillin. Now." She caught his hesitation and her eyes darkened. "_Now_, Mr Frost, or we're going to have a much bigger problem on our hands."

Looking again down at the woman, she found for the first time, dark eyes searching her face. Her hair had fallen to the side as she had turned her head, showing skin waxy with fever, the pallour on her cheeks a whitish-grey. Maura rested her hand against the woman's cheek for a moment. It didn't matter where she was. She was a doctor treating her patient. And her patient was in serious trouble.

"Hey, it'll be okay." She couldn't help but say. As if the person was just another frightened woman in her hospital. "I know how to fix this."

As if the person wasn't a killer.

That, was her first mistake.

Reaching back down to her wrist Maura attempted to find a vein that could be used for the IV. But the restraints made it impossible.

"This is ridiculous…" She hissed to herself. "I can't even get a basic cannula in with these on."

With only a second's thought, she unbuckled the restraint.

And that was her second mistake.

"Doctor, _NO!_" It was all she heard. She felt the back of a heel knock her to the ground, and before she could get her bearings enough to wonder _how _the woman had escaped so quickly she was being pulled upward by the fabric of her shirt, and shoved against the wall so hard the back of her head exploded with pain as it collided with painted brick. Panic gripped her throat and she opened her eyes, this time staring directly into the darker ones from before, dangerous, deadly, boring into her. Hands were balled into fists around her chest, pushing her backward… so close to her a set of matching scars on the back of each hand were clearly visible, and she wondered fleetingly to herself, if by these hands her life would be snuffed out.

The doctor always wondered what this felt like – when time seemed to slow, before the end. She watched the security room frantically working to release the door, could see the panic on Frost's face as he watched their newest resident doctor, killed by a patient on her first day…

…And she found herself once again wondering, what her parents would think...

Until suddenly the grip at her shirt slackened, the eyes burning into hers rolled back into their sockets and limply, unceremoniously, a black and orange blur crumpled to the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **This is all your fault.

_Translation: "thank you, thank you, thank you for the reviews and follows and favourites, even so early on, for giving this crazy universe a chance... from the bottom of my heart :) I am your humble writing slave"_

**Author's Note 2: **For anyone worried about Puzzles, I promise this fic is not an affair :) I am devoted to both.

Tx

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><p>Prometheus: Chapter 2<p>

If she had been honest with herself, it was partly embarrassment, part sheer stupid stubborn will that kept the doctor from dissolving into a shaking, shivering mess. The door had been unlocked and swung open almost in the same instant as her dark-haired assailant fell to the ground. She gathered herself quickly, straightening her skirt and her blouse as Frost and a tall orderly rushed in.

Maura drew a calming breath through her nose and out again. She determined that _had_ the prisoner snapped her neck, they would have had a 90% chance of reviving her due to their proximity.

87% chance she would have been a quadriplegic.

60% chance with permanent brain damage due to oxygen deprivation of the brain, caused by the impingement of one or more major blood vessels.

They certainly were sobering odds. But like all numbers, facts and figures in the doctor's world, they were soothing in their absoluteness.

The two men pulled the limp combination of limbs off the floor and back onto the bed, buckling the restraints in place immediately. The tangle of hair again covered her face, and for now, Maura was content to leave it there.

Wiping a hand over his forehead, Frost turned to her and breathlessly gestured to the man beside him, who also appeared – to Maura's judgement – a fraction nervous.

"Doctor, this is one of the orderlies, Alex Hinkler. Alex, this is the new head of the infirmary – Dr Isles."

He couldn't have been more then 26 years old, with a thin crop of light hair, green eyes and a handsome jawline. Maura stuck a courteous hand out towards him and he took it slowly. His grip was firm, but not overbearing.

A pleasure to be working with you, Mr. Hinkler." She said. Then, she gestured towards the bed. "The wound will need to be cleaned before I can stitch it. Can you set me up please? I will also need some swabs, gauze pads and saline."

Still looking a bit shell shocked, the young man nodded once and turned to leave.

Maura immediately went to work setting up the IV. The dark haired woman's hand was clammy and cold, the scar she had earlier seen flash – along with her life – before her eyes, was now unmistakeable. Maura found herself curious as to its origin. It was a peculiar injury.

"Wouldn't it be better if we got Alex to do all this?" Frost asked softly, once the orderly had left the room.

With a huff of frustration she angled the syringe to get access to a decent vein, before finding success and deftly inserting the cannula. She still hated the restraints, but was going to have to learn to work with them, obviously.

"It is important for me to understand the nature of wounds sustained in a prison, Mr Frost." She said, without looking at him. Instead she was focused on mounting the IV bag on the stand. "Why would I delegate a responsibility I am more than capable of doing myself?" It was it clear the question was rhetorical when she continued. "Besides, what I require from Mr Hinkler is some assistance in managing and monitoring the fever, once I have finished."

Finally, with IV bag hooked into place and attached to her patient, she glanced up. "I need to see the rest of the facility."

"Doctor…" Frost started, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"I really am quite fine." She assured him. "No doubt this will not be the first time my physical well-being is in jeopardy. I'll consider it a rehearsal."

"Okay ,okay" Frost raised his hands, holding them outward in a sign of surrender. "Just-" He stopped, Maura watched his face contort into a frown, as if he were considering his next words carefully. "-don't expect these people to behave like patients. They are prisoners, first and foremost."

She nodded curtly. "I will of course be more careful from now on. But I will not change my approach to medicine just because I happen to be in charge of a prison infirmary."

Alex returned shortly afterward with a full set of instruments enclosed in a solid, lockable case. Of course, everything that wasn't tied down here, needed to be. He placed it on the small table and slid it around to the other side of the bed to where Maura was standing, peering at the wound on the woman's side.

"It's from a shank." Alex spoke for the first time, his voice a little higher than Maura expected from a man of his height. "We see a lot of injuries like that here. Although-" he added, "Few patients ever try to fix it themselves." then shrugged. "Most of them love the opportunity to be in the infirmary. Break from the monotony."

Frost's voice broke into their conversation, low and soft. "She's always hated this place." He said. "The only way we can get her here is by force, or fighting, or-" He leaned over and for the first time, Maura noticed a small syringe in his hand. He nodded towards her. "Sedative."

She nodded her understanding, and although it still didn't sit well with her she knew better than to argue. Uncapping the needle she slipped it through the coarse orange fabric into the woman's upper arm.

She heard Alex chuckle beside her. "There's a running joke around here that one of these days we're going to find her in her cell attempting to remove her own appendix." He said. Frost hid his smile, but Maura's eyes immediately shot up and fixed both of them with a cautionary glare.

"Running _joke_?" She said coolly. "You do realise that finding a person in that situation would almost guarantee a fatal outcome."

Alex's smile immediately faded. "Oh, Uh-" He stammered. "It's not so much a _joke_… rather…"

"These are still _people _we're treating, Mr. Hinkler."

"Yes ma'am… o-of course-"

"And if you think a person's aversion to medical treatment is a _joke_, perhaps you might consider a different career path."

Alex shuffled uncomfortably on his large feet and he dropped his head. "Yes ma'am."

"I'm glad we understand each other." She said, removing a thermometer from the case. She noted that Frost had silently watched the entire exchange, and appreciated his demonstration of respect for her position and leadership of her direct reports.

Brushing back enough hair to find her patient's ear, she pressed it inside. "102. This is a high-grade infection. Mr Hinkler I need you to help me clean this up, I will apply the stitches and then I need you to monitor her temperature until it gets down to 98.5. Okay?"

This time, she ensured her voice was softer. He nodded.

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><p>With his assistance, the entire procedure took under 20 minutes. Frost stood patiently, observing her, but Maura caught the occasional furtive glance at the woman in the bed, recalling his earlier warnings, before she stubbornly ignored him and the chaos ensued.<p>

_'I'd avoid that one... at least until you can be briefed... Properly.'_

The words echoed in her mind. The doctor felt there was a lot more to know about this particular woman.

Alex continued on with instruction from Dr Isles, as Frost introduced her to her second orderly and full time assistant, a woman of smaller stature and Asian-American heritage. They exchanged brief conversation, Maura checked on the vitals of the two other patients in the general area of the infirmary, until Frost finally led her away and back down the corridor towards the main cell blocks.

Maura drew in a deep breath of fresh air the moment they exited the double doors, savouring the smells of autumn. In a strange way, making herself aware of the life that was thriving outside these walls was comforting. It made her feel... grounded... in amongst what she had no doubt was going to feel like bedlam on more than one occasion over the next six months.

She had barely enough time to register that Frost had stopped on the path before pulling up sharply to avoid colliding with him. At first he made no move to turn around, and Maura watched as instead, his head lowered a fraction. Perplexed, the doctor took a step to the side, just as he turned.

"Mr Frost?"

Solemn eyes turned to her.

"She killed an orderly." He finally said. "A year ago. The one Alex replaced. He doesn't know that of course – " He shook his head. "Neither of them do." His eyes grew distant and he stared over her shoulder into a large recreational yard, empty given the time of day. "She- broke free of the restraints and stabbed him to death. Same restraints - same room as you were just in."

Maura blinked once, twice, and swallowed heavily, feeling her palms become instantly sweaty. That woman had only been inches from her… how close had she come to bleeding out on the same floor?

Again, the persistent thought entered her mind, as she imagined the call to her parents.

"Oh." It was all she could offer. "I'm sorry."

Frost shrugged. "I never liked the guy, particularly-" He said. "But nobody deserves that, when they're trying to do their job."

She understood. Gently, she placed a hand on his forearm.

"I will be careful." She promised.

He nodded, and a small smile tinted his face. "At least the new warden has been in your shoes." He said. "I didn't like him much either, but, I never saw the infirmary run so efficiently when he was in charge of it."

At Maura's raised eyebrow, the smile turned into a grin. "Obviously until now, I'm sure."

She laughed at that, and a small breeze kicked up the edges of her fringe, bringing damp leaves and pine past her nose. The dramas of earlier faded into the recesses of her mind. And although she knew she would be facing them again sooner or later, she enjoyed a rare moment to just feel… _normal. _

_S_he knew that _that _feeling_, _for her, had been missing long before she even arrived in this place.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **So this is a little later than I would normally wait for an update! almost a week (yikes) - but it's a biggie and I have been working on it the whole time so I hope it's a fair trade-off. For anyone who is familiar with Bedford Hills, I am taking complete liberties with the town and the prison, I did try to work out from a map the rough orientation but... I am sure I fall short so, I apologise.

Thank you so much for the reviews and the interest :) let's see where this goes!

Tx

Prometheus: Chapter 3

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><p><em>Pain shot up her side.<em>

_The room was spinning._

_Her head… her head – did they do it? Did they make it through?_

_She licked her lips and tasted blood._

_Yes, they did. **Fuck.**_

_Someone was going to be elevated for this. Someone had their way in. Somewhere higher in the ranks of the fallen_

_Their right of passage._

_Right through her._

_And she was weaker now than before. They had seen, they would know._

_And eventually, they would kill her_

_That was how it worked. That was how it always worked._

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><p>The Doctor and her companion continued down the concrete path, side by side, as they made their way to the doors to one of the main cell blocks.<p>

She had been briefed on the prison ahead of time, and of course done her own thorough research into both Bedford Hills and prison structure in general. The cell blocks here were typical of a medium to maximum security prison; some inmates shared cells – no more than two at a time – and others were kept separate. Each block had its own dedicated guard station, basic recreation and common area. At this time of day, all the cells were occupied and Frost explained he would be able to show her around, introduce her to the guards, and leave again with minimal disruption.

"So, are you married?" He asked, pushing through the first door.

Unable to stop herself from bristling at the question, Maura shook her head. Barry Frost was friendly enough. Just like the driver… but that didn't make these lines of personal questioning any more… exasperating. "No." She answered.

"Boyfriend?"

"I- was engaged." She answered, as always hoping it was enough information and enough tone to keep him off the topic.

Oh, how wrong she was.

"_Was?_" Frost was clearly oblivious to her discomfort at the conversation. Reaching an arm across her he ground them to an absolute halt, then turned sharply towards her. "What idiot wouldn't stay engaged to you?" He asked, breaking into a grin. "Damn, that guy sure lost his marbles."

It was peculiarly disarming, and Maura found herself answering immediately. "I suppose he did in a way." She said.

.-.-.-.-.-

_'__I'm leaving.'_

_'__No you're not,.. you don't have the guts to leave me.'_

_'__I do, Ian, and I am. The taxi is outside.'_

_'__You… can't!'_

_'__I can. I am… I love you, but you're destroying yourself, and me.'_

.-.-.-.-.-

The images and past conversation faded as quickly as they appeared, as she gently steered the present conversation away with a smile. "What about you?" She asked, "How long have you and your wife been married?

"6 Years next month…" The older man answered, as they resumed their walk. Then, his voice lowered to conspiratorial levels and he leaned toward her. "Hey, do you think you could help me find an anniversary present?"

"Well I- " She started, uncertainly, but Frost cut her off.

"Come on! You're a woman with impeccable taste, _and _style…" He gestured at her, and Maura pulled the edges of her blazer closer to her unconsciously, cursing the unwritten rules of appropriate social interaction.

"I do like fashion, Mr Frost. I enjoy observing the evolution of trends over time, and being a part of it." She paused, noticing that he was still eyeing her expectantly. She gave a capitulating sigh. "Well, I'm not terribly familiar with Westchester County," She tilted her head "-but I also do a lot of shopping online, so I'm sure I could make a couple of recommendations once I know a bit more about her." And suddenly Frost's eyes widened in what the Doctor read as relief, and Maura felt a small smile appear on her lips.

"So tell me then… how did you meet?"

The conversation continued throughout the tour of the prison. Maura learned more about Frost and his background, his wife who was from the NYPD, their house, their lives, and their plans for family. Having initially found the beginning of the conversation clumsy and awkward – as she routinely did – the further they progressed the more words and questions came with ease.

Maura filed away the information he gave her like a dossier. Now she had made a commitment, she was going to approach it with the same seriousness and intent on exceeding expectations as she did with all her projects. She requested a week, to fully explore the options, and return to him with a recommendation. Frost had been so excited Maura worried for a moment he might hug her – but thankfully settled on grasping her hands in his and repeating his thanks, grinning like an excited 12 year old.

Whether by choice or simply by flow of topic, Frost didn't ask any more about Maura's personal life, and for that she was grateful.

The Doctor walked out of the final cell block listening to Frost explaining the system by which the inmates were housed. The entire facility was technically maximum security, however even within the prison there were clearly sweeping differences between offences, and therefore necessary security around them. The cell blocks were housed with that in mind, the final one having no shared cells at all and a notably different layout, presumably to reduce contact between inmates.

Maura found her mind wandering back to the woman lying in the infirmary, and, equally, where her cell was.

Having reached the last building, Maura realised they had circled all the way around the prison when she spotted the infirmary to the left of it.

"Last stop." Frost said, pausing in the middle of the footpath. He gestured towards a more modern structure, with concrete outer walls instead of brick. "Isolation block and the ol' Captain's quarters."

The Doctor blinked. In all her research, no prison had the main office anywhere near the isolation block. Generally they were in a separate, administrative building or part of a mess hall or lower-grade cell block.

"Dr Jameson works from here?" She asked, trying to hide the surprise in her tone. Frost nodded.

"Him, and the Sergeant.." He said. "Korsak's a good guy, I think you'll like him."

Taking note that this was the first occasion Frost had mentioned she would _like _someone, she sized up the building. It seemed…. Inadequate, to contain offices and cells at the same time.

"So, where are the isolation cells?"

Frost shrugged. "They're underground."

She shifted uncomfortably, understanding that this was one of the many points where her values and prison life collided.

Frost caught the action and sighed, nodding towards the infirmary building. "Our friend back there spends so much time here she could rent out her cell."

Maura chewed on the inside of her cheek, her thoughts still whirling. It felt so… 14th century – all she could think of was the history of medieval dungeons and the horrible torture and pain inflicted on the victims. It didn't matter that in this day and age, they were convicted criminals, some of unspeakable crimes… it just, still felt _ugly_ to her.

She felt the question bubble up without permission. "What, what is she in for, may I ask?"

"Double homicide, pre-meditated. Ugly." Was all Frost said.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "No motive at all, just the wrong people passed her way one day." He turned to her again and shook his head. "You really don't want to know the details. Just trust me, she is one, very dangerous woman. Nothing but trouble the moment she got here." Resuming their walk he approached the doors to the building. "She'll be down there the moment Jameson signs her off."

That made Maura stop in her tracks. She turned slightly to Frost and raised an eyebrow. "The warden has control of the medical release of prisoners?"

"Helps he was a doctor I suppose." Frost answered. "He knows when they're faking it."

Faking it…?

Maura was silent as they entered the building, discomfort coiling through her stomach. The moment the door swung open, she drew her blazer even tighter around herself and crossed her arms.

"Goodness!" She exclaimed despite herself, "Why is it so cold in here?"

Frost shook his hands out and blew into them. "I heard there were some maintenance issues with the heating system in here." He said. "Being concrete, it cools pretty quickly and takes a while to warm up again." He shrugged. "Kinda what you expect from November. Come on," He gestured towards the dual elevators at the end of the hallway. "Let's go meet the boss."

* * *

><p>Behind his desk, in a sharply tailored suit, pale blue tie and crisp shirt sat Mark Jameson. He stood quickly when Maura and Frost arrived, stepping around with his arm outstretched.<p>

"Dr Isles, it is a pleasure to meet you." He said. Maura took his hand and politely shook it. "Forgive the temperature here, we've had problems since the building was built." He waved absently somewhere to his left, then returned his attention to her. "Your reputation truly precedes you."

Maura noticed that his smile spread everywhere on his face except for his eyes. She found it entirely uncomfortable.

"Thank you, Dr Jameson." She said quietly. "I am looking forward to working with you."

He snorted at that, shaking his head. "Please, nobody looks forward to working here. They work because they have to. It's not exactly, the most glamorous of professions." Then he smiled again. "But it is necessary nonetheless."

She nodded, not knowing anything else to say.

"I hear you've already met a few of the prisoners?"

"Yes, three." She answered. "Evidence indicates a prison brawl."

"Ahh…" He leaned backwards on the balls of his feet, crossing his arms. A knowing smile danced over his face. "And it involved Rizzoli." He stated. Not question – fact. "She's a specimen, isn't she?"

Rizzoli.

It was the first time she heard her name, but she knew it was her the moment he said it. Maura glanced to Frost, who frowned. She glanced back at Jameson. "I am not sure what you are referring to."

His eyes danced with an odd light. "Pure evil." He said. "Came in a killer, and doesn't she play the part well? frightens almost all of the inmates, and the staff." He cast a sly glance at Frost, who shifted uncomfortably. "If ever there was an example of why prisons should exist…."

Before Maura could counter with the scientific research of personality, predisposition and past history, a chirping sounded at his hip and the light haired woman saw him reach down toward a pager she hadn't noticed before. Another smile curled at his lips and looked back up toward her. Maura felt herself grow unexpectedly colder than the air in the room.

"Looks like you're up, Doctor. She's awake."

* * *

><p>Maura found her fingers nervously tracing the edges of the access card that had been deposited into her hand in the few moments after Jameson had received his call. Nervous not because of the card itself, or the duty she had, or even the woman on the other side of that glass, but nervous because he had decided to take it upon himself to escort her. And then watch her.<p>

"I assume everything is okay, Dr Isles?" He asked as they reached the door to her isolation room. Her eyes found Alex's and she saw him drop his shoulders in an obvious sign of relief that she - or perhaps _anyone _else - was there.

"Of course," She said stiffly, her access pass hovering over the sensor. She heard the metallic clunk of the magnet releasing, pressing the door inwards with the tips of her fingers. "I am just unaccustomed to being observed doing a job I am entirely comfortable and qualified doing. I am not an intern, Dr Jameson."

He laughed then, crossed his arms and eyed her, up and down. "That is true, Doctor." He agreed, then lowered his tone, leaning towards her. "But you are still my employee, and on the first day on the job, released a prisoner from restraints and risked the safety of the entire infirmary." He patted her shoulder. "So you'll forgive me if I want to see my recruit at work."

Maura cringed, but she wasn't sure whether it was from the touch or the mention of her inglorious lapse of judgement. She slipped into the room, grateful Jameson didn't follow her, but felt his gaze on her back the entire time as she approached her orderly.

"Mr Hinkler." She said.

"Dr Isles-" Her name fell out somewhere in the middle of a relieved release of breath. "She's... awake, obviously." He said, screwing his face up as if he had wished he had been more informative. "Fever's still at 99, but it's dropping. She's tried the restraints, but they're holding, too." His eyes darted to the almost-empty bag of fluid hanging from the metal stand. "We need to-"

"Yes, we need to continue the dose as-is." The doctor answered. "Both of them. Can you locate some for me and I'll arrange the swap?"

As if relieved to be given a pass to exit the room, the tall orderly nodded hastily, snapping off his gloves and heading toward the door. Maura heard it open and shut with the familiar sound of metal disengaging from charged metal. For the first time since she arrived, her eyes fell on the figure in the bed.

She was still a good five feet from the woman, but the doctor could see her features so clearly, she looked like any one of her patients in the every day trauma ward of Northwestern. She was pale, the bruise around her eye had swollen further, almost forcing it shut. Minus the injuries, the Doctor determined she might have been quite striking - high cheekbones, defined jaw, dark hair... it made sense her heritage would be Italian. Her eyes were closed, but the Doctor could see her hands flexing and releasing in the restraints, the puckered scars shining clearly in the brighter lights of the room.

"Go on Doc," A voice rasped, snapping Maura away from her physical assessment and back to the woman's face, finding she herself was now being watched. "Release me. I dare you."

Maura crossed her arms over her chest. "I would like to, you know." She said. "Those restraints are highly restrictive to IV applications. Not to mention how uncomfortable they must be."

The woman's lips curled into a snarl. "So what are you waiting for?"

"History tells me it might not be a wise choice." She said simply. "For now."

"For now?" The woman laughed bitterly. "What, you think I'm some project."

Dr Isles sighed, and nodded at the figure of Alex Hinkler as he approached the door again, IV bag and sedatives in hand.

"You are my patient."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

Frustration pulled her gaze back towards the woman. "It means I don't want to treat you in restraints." She snapped. Then shook her head. "But I understand it is the only choice I have." She turned away again, her orderly had entered the room and had passed the items over to her, clearly attempting to avoid any eye contact with the prisoner.

They passed across the bed, IV bag in one hand and syringe in the other. In her peripheral vision, the Doctor noticed the dark eyes fixed on the smaller object in her right hand.

"Doesn't matter." She muttered. "I will kill you eventually."

"No, you won't." Maura said simply, placing the syringe carefully on the tray beside her and setting about removing the old IV bag and looping the new one on the stand. She unscrewed the connecters and reattached the new set.

"You didn't hear what I did to the other one-"

"I did." She answered. The topic unnerved her greatly, but she knew she needed to address it in order to stand her ground.

"I killed him."

"I know."

"I'll kill you."

This time, she turned fully to the other woman, placing her hands gently on her hips. "I don't believe that." She said. "Because I won't give you a reason to."

The eyes turned an impossibly darker shade with the anger that flashed in them. "As if I need a reason-" She hissed, straining forward, "Do you not _see_ me!? Do you not remember what I nearly did to you-"

It was everything she told herself not to do. Everything she was convinced she would never be part of. But... Mark Jameson's voice still echoed in her mind - his observation of her, the questioning of her capabilities riled against her and fuelled the action. She knew what she was doing. She had to trust it. Maura raised her hand, turning it, palm outward, towards her. She took a deep breath, and a step forward.

All she could think about, were those words

_'Pure evil'. _

Suddenly her fingers were curled around the dark-haired woman's throat.

"_This_ is an act of aggression." She said, her voice low, leaning over the prisoner and staring directly at her. "Isn't it?" The act sent a shiver down her spine - knowing it was only the second time in her life she'd- She shook the thought roughly from her mind and watched dark eyes grew wide with surprise, then settle, strangely, without a hint of panic in them. All that was there was simply... knowing, and accepting. She ignored the second wave of unease that wound its way around her body, and her voice softened.

"But... you didn't do that." She said. "You did this-" and she released her, wincing internally as she heard the woman take a gasp of unobstructed air. She knew she had made no impact to the woman's trachea with her grip - it was deliberately only symbolic - but the woman had responded as if it were real - perhaps panic.. or memory..

The doctor then shifted her hand to the collar of the orange shirt, her other hand joining next to it, bunching the material close to her chest.

"You did this-" she repeated, her voice softer. It brought her dangerously close to those same burning dark eyes, and she found herself swallowing against the fear of the recollection. Her inner voice of reason was screaming at her to stop. Adrenaline coursed through her, as she watched something unidentified flash across the other woman's features. Maura couldn't place it, but she knew it was familiar and most importantly it meant she had had some sort of effect. So she continued, mustering the remaining shreds of confidence into her voice "-this, is not an act of aggression, Rizzoli. No matter what you pretend, or bluster about it." She murmured lowly under her breath. "This is a defence action."

And as simply as if she'd said 'please' Maura released her, standing upright and purposefully straightening the creases from her blouse and blazer.

"I want to not have to restrain you," She said. "Earlier today you could have killed me. But you didn't." She casually removed her gloves, placing them in the bin beside the bed. "It was because you were acting defensively. Because you were in pain, and you didn't know who I was. And _that-_" She picked up the syringe with the sedative "-means you felt threatened." se placed it back into the lockable case, the eyes that followed her now widened in surprise for a second time. "I am a doctor. It is my job to heal, and to prevent harm. No matter who it is."

Clicking the case closed, she gathered the remainder of the equipment and prepared to leave, finally noting the second set of eyes regarding her curiously from the other side of the glass.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **So, I sat down tonight completely intending to write for Puzzles, but my muse was clearly more Prometheus... so here is the next chapter.

For those reviewing, following and favouriting (and yes I know I just made up a word). Thank you as always for the incredible faith you have shown so early on

Tx

* * *

><p>Prometheus: Chapter 4<p>

She swept past her assembled audience briskly, avoiding their gazes of awe, puzzlement and shock and clenching her fingers tightly around the handle of the case of medical supplies to steady the tremor in her hands. She was still reeling from the encounter, still charged with adrenaline, knees tingling and a cool sweat emerging at the back of her neck.

All of them – Frost, Hinkler, Dr Jameson… even her other orderly Ms Chang had appeared at the window to watch the exchange, as if they knew something out of the ordinary would take place.

Maura exhaled softly, bringing herself to the remaining two occupied beds, busying her mind with the two folders that contained the medical history of the prisoners in them. Tasha Martinez, with cranial lacerations, severe concussion and compound fracture to both her radius and ulna, and Brodie Reece, three bruised ribs, bruised spleen and pulmonary oedema. And Rizzoli had – what, a concussion? She shook her head. This was hardly a prison brawl. This was a massacre. _And_ Rizzoli had been weakened by her infection.

She pursed her lips as doubt fluttered through her stomach. Perhaps challenging this woman had not been the best move. She knew nothing about her.

"You like to play with fire, Doctor?" The unmistakeable drawl of Dr Jameson behind her caused her to start slightly, and she did her best to repress the cringe in her body. Slowly, she turned, clutching the clipboard from the inmate with the broken arm to her chest. His head was tilted slightly, his arms crossed across his chest, thin lips peeled into a smile.

Maura shook her head.

"No… not usually." She said. "But in this instance- and after earlier in the day, I thought it was important."

"To make an example." He offered. Maura shook her head.

"To demonstrate I was unafraid."

He nodded slowly at that, his eyes lifting up to the ceiling and lowering with his head in the same move. "And are you?" He asked, licking his lips. "-Unafraid…?"

Dr Isles paused for a moment, finding herself not entirely convinced as to what the Warden was referring to.

"I am confident in my assessment of her actions." She answered, in the end choosing the one that fit the question best. "They _were_ instinctively defensive. But they were subconscious. I am… unsure… whether the same could be said for her when lucid."

"An appropriate level of caution." He said, his voice low. "And an advisable one, doctor." He moved to turn away but stopped. "My concerns from earlier today have been… allayed." He said, then continued back towards the corridor. Maura felt a breath of relief waiting to exhale until he paused, looking over his shoulder. She froze. "I hope you don't mind-" He added "-I asked Mr Hinkler to contact me directly when her temperature returns to normal. I intend to move her to isolation as soon as practicable."

Maura blinked. "So soon? Her stitches still need monitoring, she's still at risk of developing further infection-" The words tumbled out of her without her thinking, and she found herself both regretting she had said them, and regretting that she regretted it.

"This is not a hospital, Dr Isles." Jameson said, turning his head and watching her out of the corner of his eye. "It is a prison infirmary housing convicted criminals, who _would_ kill you before giving you a second glance. You will need to adapt to that quickly." He flashed her another withering smile. "I would hate to have to replace you so soon."

Without further comment, Jameson disappeared down the hallway towards the exterior doors.

Dr Isles was attempting to rationalise the humour in the statement, her patient file still clutched around her chest, when Frost and her second orderly, Susie Chang inched their way into the main infirmary.

They stood side by side, Frost blinking faster than normal and Ms Chang barely blinking at all.

"That was… unusual." Frost's voice sounded first.

"That was… incredible." Came a smaller, softer voice chasing quickly after it.

"I don't even understand what that was…" Alex Hinkler appeared behind the two of them, wiping his forearm over his face and rubbing his fingers over his short hair.

Slowly lowering her clipboard, Maura allowed the beginnings of a smile to appear on her lips, which then broadened into a grin, then bubbled into a small chuckle.

"I know, I might just be the craziest infirmary doctor alive." She said

"It was stupid."

The fourth voice – one that Maura had not heard before, rose gruffly over the heads of the three already assembled at the mouth of the corridor. Frost's eyes flashed in recognition and he turned his head, stepping to the side to allow the figure to emerge – an older man, heavy set with short, silver hair and well-kept beard of similar length. She thought she caught a flash of surprise in his eyes, hooded by bushy grey eyebrows, when he stepped around the two orderlies and saw her for the first time.

"Dr Isles, this is the prison Sergeant, Vince Korsak." Frost introduced. Maura took a step towards him, remembering Frost's words from earlier in the tour – she would _like_ this man.

However, she deduced that from the expression on his face and his posture, right now the feeling was not mutual. His hands rested loosely on his hips just above the gun enclosed in its holster at his side.

"Korsak this is the new head of the infirmary, Dr Maura Isles."

"Won't be for very long, if you keep pulling stunts like that." He said, with the same gruff tone as earlier. Maura shifted uncomfortably, "-and is it true I heard you let her out of the restraints earlier today?"

"Vince-" Frost appeared beside him, and Maura could see his eyes flicking uneasily between her and the uniformed man in front of her. "She was doing her job, she didn't know."

Korsak didn't look at Frost, he simply folded his arms over his chest and slightly tilted his head. "Well, you've got a steep learning curve if you want to survive here, Doctor." He said. "Rizzoli is an animal. Nothing more."

Maura felt herself bristling at the comment. "Frankly, the way I behave around my patients Sergeant is none of your concern." She said, slipping the patient files back into the brackets at the end of each bed. "You might be surprised how closely a Friday night in the Emergency ward resembles a place like this. Now-" Advancing a step, she mirrored his folded arms and raised her eyebrows. "While it is surely… a pleasure.. to meet you, is there something in particular that has brought you into my infirmary?"

She detected a small softening of his features at her defence. Perhaps there was hope for them after all.

"Yes." He said. "I am here to get statements from the other two girls here." He peered over her shoulder at the two unconscious forms. "But it would appear that I might be too early."

"It would." She agreed simply.

Nodding, Korsak stepped away. "I'll come back later." He said.

The Doctor watched him leave, her arms still folded over her chest and her right foot tapping absently on the linoleum.

"I'll call you if they regain consciousness." She offered after him. He lifted his hand in a wave, then continued on.

Hinkler and Chang had scurried to their respective corners of the infirmary like mice. Maura's eyes slid over to Frost, fixing him with a raised eyebrow.

"Okay." He said, putting his hands up toward her. "He really is a good guy, I promise-" A puff of breath left his lips and he raised his eyes to the ceiling, returning them to her as he rubbed his fingers over his forehead. "I shouldn't really tell you this, but – you'll find out anyway." He started. "The husband who was killed, who _she _killed… was his nephew."

"Oh." Maura's face fell, and she found herself instantly sympathetic to his earlier responses to her. "That must be very difficult." She said softly.

Frost nodded. "We don't speak about it, but when it comes to Rizzoli he is definitely…. Opinionated." She nodded again, and Frost added "-It's just a shame this was the first circumstance he met you."

"It is fine, Mr. Frost. Our professional courtesy still stands. I will notify him when the prisoners regain consciousness and perhaps our second encounter will be less." She searched for the appropriate word "-strained."

As it happened, it was well into the early evening before either of them woke and by that time, Korsak had already left. Maura had remained in her office most of the afternoon, reading up on recent patient history, meeting with Mr Hinkler and Ms Chang to learn more about them, and reviewing the remaining list of personnel on her file. She noted the three additional nursing staff – two full time and one part time – who she would make a point to meet over the next couple of days.

Leaning back in her chair the Doctor laced her fingers together in her lap and contemplated the infirmary through the glass windows that encircled the front of her office. It certainly was a world unlike anything she had ever imagined.

Her eyes dropped down to the one remaining file on her desk – the only one she was yet to open – and scanned over the inked notation in its corner.

_'6559724 - Rizzoli. J.'_

The Doctor tapped her index finger thoughtfully against the back of her hand, and bit down on the inside of her cheek. Then finally after several minutes of inaction she leaned forward, grasping the edge of the file in her fingers and slipped it back into the drawer of her desk, locking it shut. She gathered her bag, keys and phone, and tapped a quick message into it before pulling her blazer over her shoulders and stepping out of the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **So. More of stuff that is your fault. The Prometheus muse is like a gremlin, and being Stormy, Stormy, Monday, seems a perfect day for it. Thank you for your kind words and reviews.

And those of you who followed me into the depths of this from the far safer Routines and Puzzles (you know who you are)... huge thank yous to you too :)

Tx

* * *

><p><em>She had died here.<em>

_So many times over – in her mind, in her body._

_She was death, and they were ghouls_

_White-coated, leering. An arsenal of chemicals to keep her contained._

_In case the buckles wouldn't._

_Restrain the monster. They all knew it, and they treated her that way-_

_She knew they feared her._

_All of them. All, except-_

* * *

><p>Her hand moulded delicately around a crystal wine glass, tilting it carefully forward as she drew it closer to her lips, allowing the liquid within to slide past them onto her tongue. She relished the taste of pepper, plum and raisin, washing it through her entire mouth before she finally swallowed, her face a mask of pure enjoyment.<p>

Good wine was, to Maura Isles, certainly one of the true joys of life.

The fingers of her left hand curled over the edge of the kitchen island in her modest Manhattan apartment. Choosing this meant she was anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour 15mins from her daily commute, but it allowed her to feel more… alive… in amongst the bustle of the city. Of course, it also offered her the protection of ambiguity. Lost amongst the millions of others living so closely together, it made her difficult to be found… another deciding factor for the choice.

Besides, she had already researched the option of the motel down the road from the prison whenever she needed it.

Her eyes carefully studied the luminescent screen folded up in front of her. Taking another sip of her imported Penfolds Cabernet Sauvignon, she frowned, nails grazing casually over her keyboard until they hovered over the 'back' key.

No. That style didn't sound like Anna Frost at all.

The sound of her phone buzzing beside her drew her attention away from the online shopping page she was currently on. Her eyes slid over to the persistent humming against the polished marble, widening when she saw the caller flashing across the screen. In complete contrast to the languid, easy motions of the evening, nervous fingers scrambled for the phone, hastily placing it across her ear.

"Dr Isles." She answered formally.

"Darling, it's me."

Despite knowing the caller before even answering, Maura's fingers clenched around the handset at the voice.

"Mother, how wonderful to hear from you."

"How are you?"

Maura knew the question was laden with knowledge. It always was – which meant two things; either her mother had phoned the hospital looking for her, or Ian had phoned her. Given the extremely unlikely circumstance where the former would be the case, it left the latter.

Which left Maura with much less to say than she had before.

"I'm very well, thank you Mother." A silence stretched across continents. Maura felt the need to break it first. Politeness over necessity. "How is France?"

"Oh it is marvellous, Darling." Maura found herself resenting that the reaction when asked about a city contained more emotion than anything she had ever said about _her_. "Paris is simply perfect in the fall."

"As I remember it to be." Maura said, expertly filtering the grit from her tone.

"I hear there is a cold snap coming to Chicago." For a moment Maura attempted to discern any hidden meaning behind the comment, but in the end, chose to settle on the fact that her mother, while perfectly aware of the situation with Ian, may not have realised she had actually left the _state._

"I… moved." She said. "I no longer live in Chicago."

"Oh, I see."

And there it was. Maura had had enough 'Oh I see's to understand disappointment, judgement… regret.

"Ian called me. I am sorry it did not work out between the two of you."

Maura closed her eyes against the warming handset at her ear, the fingers of her free hand rising unconsciously to her neck, brushing over the long-healed bruise that her last night in Chicago had gifted her. Long-healed in the physical sense only.

_It's none of your business._ Is what her mind screamed.

"Me too, mother." Is what she answered, softly. Then, a swift change of subject. "I live in New York, now."

"Oh! What a marvellous choice!" The reaction was instantaneous, again a reminder to Maura of the polarised world she lived in, where the disintegration of her most intimate relationship would be eclipsed by the excitement her mother found in city she was living in to escape it. She closed her eyes and felt the sigh of regret leave her lips, unconsciously pulling her phone away from her hear to mask it from the woman on the other end.

"I have an old acquaintance who is one of the curators of the MET. I will speak with him, he would be more than happy to provide you with a tour."

"That would be lovely, mother." Maura answered, not knowing how else to respond.

"And I am almost certain I still have contacts at the Guggenheim – your father is still good friends with the District Attorney in New York, whose family is a benefactor."

"Mother I would never ask-"

"Oh don't be ridiculous darling! _I _would fly to New York if it meant a personal tour of the Guggenheim."

_But you wouldn't fly for me._ She replied silently, her fingers sagging against the phone as her other hand gripped tighter around the stem of her wine glass. It was nothing more than what she expected.

"I hope we get the chance to attend together then." She answered, instead. "In the meantime mother I do hate to cut this off so short but I have an early start at work tomorrow, and I really should prepare for it."

"Of course-" The voice returned. "You were able to find a transfer at such short notice?"

"Yes, I was."

_I'm working in a prison. I'm the head of a prison infirmary and today one of the prisoners tried to kill me._

"Well that is wonderful. I am very happy for you."

"Thank you, mother. It was lovely speaking with you."

"And you as always." Before Maura could respond, her mother added "Maura, I am truly sorry about Ian."

It hung for a moment between them – silence bouncing somewhere in space between satellites and mobile phone receivers and back again. The comment wasn't entirely unusual… but- the timing was. Maura steadied her shaking breath, and this time nodded against the phone at her ear.

"Thank you, Mother. Goodnight."

Gripping the benchtop again more for solace than stability, she closed her eyes and placed her phone back onto the shiny marble surface, as she worked to draw her swirling thoughts in to some semblance of order. Slowly, her mind cleared and her hand found its way back to the stem of her wine glass, fingers once again touching her neck as her eyes closed in on the search bar on her laptop.

For a good minute, she stared at it, before finally, she brought the glass to her lips, took a generous sip, and replaced it long enough to type a new search string into the small white box.

_'Rizzoli Murder'_

Arms folded, the Doctor waited for the search to return its findings. Thanks to the power of New York's unsurpassed wifi service, the options came thick and fast - news articles, depositions, coroner's reports, statements, witness accounts...

Maura found herself leaning closer, her eyes scanning one of the more interesting headlines.

_'Police Academy to Double Homicide'_

Fingers slid over the mouse pad, drawing the cursor to the link, before she clicked on it.

Photos of a house swathed in crime tape appeared, along with pictures of leading investigators, court houses, and one.. just one she thought might have been the woman herself…

_'Jane Rizzoli, promising Boston Police Cadet, was last night implicated in the double murder of James and Rebecca Crichton. While the BPD are yet to provide their formal statement, official sources suggest this gruesome homicide was premeditated, though motive remains unclear.'_

Jane Rizzoli.

_'__6559724 – Rizzoli. J.'_

Maura pulled back from the screen again, reaching for her wine glass once more, momentarily frustrated that it was empty. She pondered her early start one more short moment before resigning, sliding her hand closer to the matching crystal decanter and clutching the neck of it carefully, before pouring herself another generous glass.

_ 'Rizzoli example a blight on the state of Massachusetts'_

Her cursor hovered over the second link, and she clicked it.

_'Jane Rizzoli, the barbaric killer of husband and wife from Brighton, today was sentenced to life in prison at the Bedford Hill maximum security correctional facility in New York. The Boston Police Academy, where Rizzoli was in her second year, has distanced itself from the incident, citing family history as a likely factor in the offense. Jane's younger sibling Thomas Rizzoli is also wanted for questioning over alleged drug possession and burglary.'_

With trembling fingers, Maura pressed the laptop shut, taking a gulp of wine much larger than her upbringing and wine training deemed acceptable. But she didn't care.

Of all the patients in the world… why on earth had she chosen to go toe to toe with _this _one…


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **Can I just say... again... thank you for the interest.. truly - I never expected so many people to come on board so few chapters in - I am really, really humbled... Now, here's a longer one - if you make it through and still follow, you've passed the First Great Challenge Of Prometheus! There's a badge for that somewhere, really. I'll find one and I'll find you all and give it to you personally. In a non-stalker kind of way :)

Thank you

T x

* * *

><p>Prometheus Chapter 6<p>

From a very early age, Maura Isles learned the important skill of _delicacy._ To be delicate was to be seen without being imposing, to express thoughts and opinions without the necessity of vulgarity or volume, and to always, _always_ assess situations completely before forming opinions. It was what had made her an exceptional diagnostician, and why, in only one year at Northwestern her reputation had surpassed everyone, even that of her mentor.

He had always said her brain was the first thing that grabbed his attention...

But Maura had already noticed the way his eyes had been confidently appreciating her body well before that...And long before they went on their first date.

She pulled up to the staff car park in the silver hybrid she had finally acquired that morning, despite arranging it over a week ago. While it wasn't the most luxurious of cars she had ever owned, it was practical, economical and it suited her.

The Doctor glanced at her reflection in the mirror, then at the temperature blinking out from the console: 47.6. Her mother had not been wrong – there was a polar jet slicing its way down from the west of Canada, and over the coming weeks temperatures were expected not to rise much higher than the low 50s. Such was the east coast at the tail end of fall.

Slipping on a pair of simple black leather gloves, she brushed several errant strays of hair back from her forehead, and reached for her handbag.

Delicacy…was being proud of your appearance, without being vain.

Moving through the doors of the infirmary, it was delicacy that gently inquired of Ms Chang why the ISO-room was now empty. It was certainly delicacy which calmly accepted the response that Dr Jameson had determined first thing this morning that the woman was fit to be moved, despite having only been off the antibacterial IV for less than 8 hrs and with a temperature only just at the edge of normal.

And while it was professionalism that drew her to the newly-conscious patients she had yet to meet, spending over an hour appraising the improvement of their injuries carefully, answering questions and once again reminding Sergeant Korsak they were awake to be interviewed, it was delicacy that held her tongue when Martinez had boasted with a sneer that she had 'got that bitch right where it hurt', all but acknowledging the fight had been their provocation.

So by the time she closed the door to her office, Dr Maura Isles found herself fresh out of delicacy. She found herself… irritated.

Her fingers clasped firmly around her phone, searching out the newly acquired contact.

"Dr Isles, what a pleasant surprise-" Maura grimaced. She could feel the leer reaching right through the gorilla glass down to her eardrum. Doctor or not, there was something about this man that made her skin crawl. "I trust you made it in alright this morning."

"I did, thank you." She answered. "I apologise for arriving a little later than I normally would. I needed to pick up my car this morning."

She was still technically 30 minutes early, but vastly preferred arriving by 7am. It was a habit she gained at the hospital – 7am was one of the quieter times for doctors at Northwestern. As close to a guarantee of uninterrupted time than a trauma surgeon could get.

"Mmm." Came the voice. "I am not concerned with your schedule, Doctor. I am not your keeper, nor do I expect to be."

Well at least that was something the two agreed on. Maura pushed her tongue against the side of her cheek. "Actually that was one of the reasons for my call." She said. "I noticed Rizzoli has been moved."

There was a pause. "She has. This morning I believe." And then, "I did inform you doctor, that I would remove her to isolation as soon as I deemed her fit."

The Doctor's fingers clasped the edge of her desk . "And I understand that perfectly, I do –" Shifting the phone so it was pressed between her shoulder and right ear she moved around to her seat, fumbling for the lock that would open the filing drawers to her left. "It's just that she was only 8 hours off a 12 hr course of antibiotics and her temperature was still only just at normal – given her stitches were fresh I thought you might-"

"-might what?" The voice on the other end of the phone retorted curtly. "Keep her under observation? That convenient hospital term?"

"I only meant-"

"There is no such thing as observation here, Doctor." Jameson's voice lowered. "This is an infirmary with limited resources. They are moved as soon as they are deemed physically fit to move."

The top drawer slid open. Her fingers closed around the file from the previous night and retrieved it, placing it on the desk. "I understand, of course, but she has on-going treatment needs – her stitches are still new."

"All treatments that can be completed, _off_ a bed, in isolation." She had been about to protest when the voice cut her off "-A good point though doctor, we did not have an opportunity to check them in the relocation. Have Sergeant Korsak escort you. I believe he is on his way."

"Yes. Of course, "She said finally. "I will arrange it."

With the phone disconnected, Maura realised the muscles in her jaw had started to ache from the pressure with which they had been setting her teeth together. She closed her eyes for a moment, drew a deep breath through her nose and stood upright, placing her hands loosely on her hips. Allowing the release of breath through her lips, she opened her eyes again and blinked a few times to centre her thoughts.

Delicacy was essential. Nobody said it was easy.

* * *

><p>Hinkler had stuttered a slew of apologies when Dr Isles informed him of her impending trip to the isolation block. She had tried to reassure him as best she could – settling with an agreement that he would notify her the next time a similar situation occurred. While the Doctor didn't appreciate decisions being made over her head, she certainly didn't want to draw her direct reports into the discomfort of it.<p>

Korsak, on the other hand, had shown little surprise or concern at the decision, though Maura expected as such. Knowing his connection to the woman, she surmised that a potential increase in risk to that prisoner's health would hardly worry him.

Stepping inside the isolation block for the second time in 24 hours, Dr Isles found herself once again caught off-guard by the temperature, made no better by the declining weather conditions outside. Her grip tightened around the medical kit in her hand as they made their way to the small set of elevators. Had she been honest with herself, she had really hoped not to see the isolation cells at all; having read several studies of the physiological and psychological impacts of extended imprisonment in them, and remembering clearly the time they had to evacuate an entire section of the ER after a delirious ex-convict had mistaken his curtained-off bed for one of his old cells at Tamms Supermax. He had taken his nurse hostage with a hypodermic syringe to the throat.

And no less than four hours and three armed guards later he had finally been sedated.

Korsak reached forward to the panel of call buttons for the elevator, punching the 'down' arrow on the left. The cautious silence between the two of them only exacerbated Maura's discomfort, so she took the unusual step – for her – of instigating what she thought might be neutral conversation.

"How long have you worked here, Sergeant Korsak?" She asked.

The whirring sound of a responding elevator echoed around them. "Twelve years, give or take." He answered, without turning to her. "Long enough."

The doctor pulled the medical kit against her, bringing her other hand to the handle. She wondered what _long enough _meant.

"And… Dr Jameson?" her grip unconsciously tightened. "-How long-"

"Six years." Korsak cut her off, then turned to her, puffing his cheeks out with a noisy exhale. "Look, doctor. I know. The man is-" He lifted is eyes, as if attempting to pluck the appropriate adjective from the space above his head. "-an asshole." Maura balked, surprised by the admission. "He wasn't any less of an asshole when he was in your job."

Maura's eyes widened, a defense of her professionalism leaping to her lips. "I wasn't intending-"

Korsak waved her off. "He has always been too close to the infirmary." He shrugged. "Sometimes he acts like he still runs it. It's what got Pike so… on edge." Then, in the strangest change of tone he chuckled, a low, throaty sound that oddly, made Maura feel more at ease. Perhaps this was what Frost was talking about? "Now _that_ was a man who couldn't handle pressure. How on earth he ended up in this job is beyond me."

Before she could ask any more questions a chime sounded indicating the arrival of the elevator. Stark and reflective metal doors slid open, revealing a space only big enough for four people to stand comfortably. Korsak motioned for her to enter ahead of him, then followed her inside.

The ride was a short one. When it finally came to a stop and the doors opened into a stark, white corridor, the Doctor found herself wondering what she had been expecting – descent into the pits of hell? Rats and flickering lights and crumbling walls?

She inwardly shook her head at the childishness of her reaction.

Because, in complete contrast to expectation, the floor of treated concrete was almost totally unblemished. Walls, still white and clear and without so much as a chip in their paint beckoned down a corridor close to fifteen feet wide. Dr Isles could see the outline of individual doors along the corridor – she made out 5 each side before a T-junction at the end of the corridor branched in both directions, undoubtedly leading to more.

"This… facility looks rather modern for a prison of this age." She commented, as they exited the elevator. Korsak nodded.

"Jameson had it built soon after he first started as Warden. The previous isolation block was just next door, it was getting pretty old. Mechanical problems and security issues…" They walked past the first set of doors. Maura glanced through the small, square head-height windows in both of them but saw nothing. Korsak continued. "He had the walls knocked in and it was converted into the laundry room so block B could take on more space." Past the second set of doors and this time she noticed a face peering back at them, on the left, eyes narrow and searching. The doctor looked away.

"Is it customary to have isolation blocks in the same building as the main offices?" She had asked it more to make conversation, to distract her from the eyes she felt following them.

Korsak stopped, and for a moment Maura thought it was her question until he turned to the third door on the right and reached for his access chain. She caught his shrug.

"Beats me-" He answered, and for the first time since entering the building Maura heard his voice harden to the familiar intonations from the day before. "Jameson likes to keep the dangerous ones close."

He swiped his access card over the lock.

"She is still sedated." He said, hand resting lightly on the bulky iron handle. "-And cuffed. Caused us some trouble on the way down so we needed to keep her from hurting herself." The change in his tone gave Maura the distinct impression he really didn't care if she hurt herself at all.

But before giving her a chance to respond the door swung open, and everything Dr Isles had steeled herself for vanished when her eyes fell on the figure just inside the tiny room, propped against the wall.

"Jesus.." She breathed.

Her eyes were closed, head lolled to the side, dark hair cascading down her left shoulder. The doctor's gaze travelled over face, shoulders and arms, across to the wrists chained behind her back, bruises and abrasions from what looked like attempts at struggling evident underneath the metal. Her legs stretched out in front of her, ankles similarly collared together, forcing her knees to fall outward for comforts' and unconsciousness' sake.

Maura took in the whole sight of her patient. Orange. White. Black. Striking colours against the concrete wall.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Korsak move further into the room, one hand resting casually on the holster of his gun, the other on the baton.

"Rizzoli." She called gently, taking a step towards her.

No response.

Another step brought her within arms' reach, and with practiced hands The Doctor lowered her medical kit onto the concrete floor and flicked it open. Then, adjusting her skirt, she snapped on a pair of gloves, drew herself down and rested her hand against the woman's upper arm.

"Rizzoli." She called again. "I need to take a look at your stitches."

This time the woman's head moved a fraction, towards the noise, fell once, then lifted again. Eyes opened, unfocused, glassy, and rolled away from the light.

Carefully Maura shifted herself forward, fingers tangling into orange fabric.

"I need to open your shirt so I can see."

One by one, she began to release the buttons at the base of the prison clothing, just high enough to give herself access, revealing the white fabric of an undershirt.

"Okay," she said it mostly for herself, rather than the person in front of her. "Easy. See?"

She could see the raised gauze patch underneath the white material, and the discolouration that was seeping through. Pursing her lips in concentration, she reached down to the hem and peeled it away.

"Nnn…"

The Doctor's eyes darted upward to find the woman's forehead etched with deep lines, her lips drawn into a loose cringe. Her eyes blinked slowly open and rolled closed again, as if she was trying to find purchase on what was happening. Her shoulders tightened, wrists straining against the cuffs and her ankles did the same. Dr Isles reached back down to the shirt but the woman pushed hard away, against the wall, until gravity turned the push into a pull and her upper body sagged to the concrete floor. Her legs, despite being bound together, attempted to dig at the ground, feebly kicking herself further away, closer to the corner of the tiny cell.

"Rizzoli-" Maura called at her again, concern weaving its way through her consciousness. Prisoner or not, the woman was almost…no, she _was_… _Distressed._

"It's easier if you just do it." Dr Isles spun her head around to find Korsak, leaning back against the wall now, his gaze fixed on the concrete above her head and hands loosely clasped around the gun at his hip. "She's not going to comply with you no matter what you do."

"I am not sedating her any further." The words were both a fact and a warning. She ignored the look of disapproval from the Sergeant and returned her attention to the woman now lying completely on the floor.

Drawing upon an experience she had only ever encountered one time in her life, with a slow, nervous hand she reached forward and closed her fingers against the woman's shin.

"Rizzoli." She said again, rubbing gently through the material over her leg, which flexed tightly under her touch. "I know you can hear me. I am not going to hurt you. I am a doctor and I am here to help you." Muscles shifted under her palm, ankles moved backward, forward, before finally stilling. "Okay." Maura blew a quiet breath out through her lips. "Okay. Good. Now I am going to lift your top so I can check the wound in your side. I'm only going to lift it a little, so you don't need to worry." Shuffling forward on her knees, she swapped her right hand for her left over the woman's leg and then placed her free hand over the base of the woman's stomach. It tensed immediately.

"Nnnph.."

The woman who was so assertive, so _in _control only 12 hours ago…

Rather than moving she splayed her fingers over the material, "Rizzoli, I am here to help you, okay?" they clasped the hem again and lifted a fraction, revealing a slither of skin. "Okay?"

She squeezed the calf with her free hand and lifted with her right.

When no more resistance was offered, she lifted further... exposing medical tape… and skin… and-

"Oh my god-" Her hand flew to her mouth without thinking.

The gauze bandage against the woman's side was tinted with red and yellow patches, the area around it coloured with angry purple, blue and black bruising. Maura attempted to process the damage, then her head spun around to Korsak.

"What the hell is this?" She hissed.

Korsak turned to her. "I said she we had trouble getting her down here. It's self-inflicted. It's why we need to keep her cuffed."

"Her hands are _behind_ her back." The Doctor snapped, "Explain to me how she can self inflict _this_," She gestured at the partially exposed abdomen. "Sergeant."

He stepped forward, his eyes flashing. "I have no idea, _Doctor_." He growled. "But do I care? No, not particularly." He pointed a finger at the woman behind her. "I operate by the book. And _that, _is not something I will care about. That I will _ever_ care about."

"Then step outside."

Korsak blinked, as if he had misheard, then his eyes narrowed. "Doctor with all due respect-"

"I don't care." She shot back. "I don't care what you think Sergeant. Your concern is for the safety of the facility. I can assure you, as a medical professional, that given this woman's level of sedation and her restraints she will not be able to cause any harm to me." The Doctor braced her free hand against the concrete. "-and that, I believe, is where your responsibility ends. So please-" She glanced behind him into the corridor for emphasis. "Step outside."

Reluctance was seeping from him as prolifically as sweat on a summers' day. Nonetheless, with a final disapproving glance in her direction, he stepped outside and pulled the heavy cell door closed.

Maura turned back to her patient, alone, separated by circumstances but tethered by touch.

It would not be the last time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **Firstly, thank you so much to those who have reviewed and nudged and kicked :) And I am sorry this one has taken a bit to get posted, the muse did have a tantrum because it thought I was playing favourites, but is now behaving.

Which leads me to my second point - there is more! I promise... it's written. It will be posted. There just needed to be... context first.

Stick with me here :)

Tx

* * *

><p>Prometheus Chapter 7<p>

* * *

><p>His name was Jackson Tait. He was young, handsome, and a private in the US marine core. He had survived four tours of Iraq and Afghanistan, only to be taken out by a SUV whose driver didn't understand traffic signals.<p>

Tait had already crashed in the ambulance twice on the way to Northwestern, and was barely clinging to life when he was wheeled into surgery - on Dr Isles' rotation. Thus she became his surgeon.

She had managed to stop the bleeding, removed his spleen, a kidney, sutured closed a perforation of his stomach, and set the fractures in his legs enough for a proper orthopaedic surgeon to screw them together properly at a later date. She had removed a piece of his skull to allow the brain extra room to swell without damaging it further. She was also the one to put it back. She couldn't do much about the fractured ribs - but they had healed by the time he had emerged from his coma, 4 weeks later. In that time she had siphoned 12 pints of someone else's blood into his body to keep him alive.

The first time he had finally regained consciousness, the feeling of relief in the medical team overseeing his progress was palpable. His family was crying with joy. Even the Doctor, who prided herself on an outward projection of professional distance, allowed herself a rare moment of unbridled enthusiasm.

Until he tore a hole in his trachea trying to escape the unseen enemy at the end of his bed.

It took another 2 hours in emergency surgery to repair the damage.

The second time, he ripped the arterial IV line out of his groin. She fixed that too, adding another 2 pints of blood. And thus when it became clear that the perhaps for this young man regaining consciousness was almost as dangerous as the coma he was recovering from, they had decided to take the step of sedating him while they scrambled to locate a psychiatrist qualified enough to ease him away from his waking nightmare. As his surgeon, Dr Isles had been dragged in too - and taught some basic principles of how to manage a minefield of stimuli, reactions and fears.

And he became her first real experience of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Naturally she researched it, like she did all of her unknowns. It was not like Maura to sit back and wait for information, for experience to come to her. No, if she was going to be the best, she needed to know. She needed to know it all.

She learned the nuances, the habits, the peculiarities of behaviour that might indicate the presence of something more than simple, logical decision-making. She became aware of potential signs that would suggest something _else _was driving the person's reactive brain… the angry gremlin hogging the steering wheel. Importantly she learned the possible approaches to individuals in those situations, and while it by no means made her an expert, it certainly improved her ability to treat her future patients.

They had brought Jackson back eventually – the team of them; over four agonizing months. For Dr Isles, while she kept her external façade intact, she found it easy to care, easy to feel remorse for him and anger for his situation and channel that emotion deep into the way in which she treated him... The time and energy she invested ensuring he was cared for appropriately.

And when Maura had visited him one afternoon soon after his release from hospital only to find him with his gun in his mouth, crying for all the things he couldn't feel, she poured everything she had left into that one moment, that single moment where the movement of only a millimetre could have ended him.

It didn't. He won. And he crawled back to life, her doing her best to shine a torch bright enough for him to see.

After all, he was a certified war hero. And they were still in contact to this day.

* * *

><p>"Rizzoli."<p>

The woman had quieted, still in her awkward position on the floor, pressed as if she were trying to fold herself into the space where the wall ended and floor began. The Doctor watched the erratic rise and fall of her chest, fast like in panic, eyes half-lidded, staring at the ceiling.

"Rizzoli, I need to look at your stitches."

Her left hand was still wrapped around her shin, firmly but without so much pressure as to cause discomfort.

With Korsak gone, the Doctor felt more at ease to approach the woman the way she needed to, without judgement or interruption. Her right hand closed around the medical case.

"I'm going to move now." She said. "I'm going to move closer and I'm going to move my hand – away from your leg now. Okay?"

She released the dark-haired woman's shin, while at the same time shuffling forward on the concrete, closer to where she had better access to the area she needed to see. She had concerns – real concerns – about the level of damage since she had last seen the wounds. They shouldn't have developed the way they did. The fact there was deterioration at all was alarming in itself.

But if her assessment _was _correct… Which she had every reason to believe it was, then Korsak's explanation - regardless of her dislike of the way he gave it - was entirely plausible.

Pulling herself level with the woman's ribcage Maura squinted up at the lights above her then took a moment to observe the shape and location of her shadow over Rizzoli's body. She knew that if the light was shining directly behind her, from anyone looking up from the floor her features would be indistinguishable; which for a person in Rizzoli's state and already half-sedated could appear… threatening.

And despite her obvious desire to keep her patient as calm as possible for treatments' sake, Maura couldn't help remembering what had happened the _last_ time the woman felt threatened by her.

"Okay Rizzoli." She said, "I'm going to put my hand on your arm, so you know where I am."

The instant her fingers connected with the woman's upper arm she flexed violently, the rattling of her cuffs clearly audible behind her back. Her eyes flew open and now Maura was close enough to see her pupils attempting to dilate, still staring upward at the ceiling. Her teeth clenched and her rapid breaths hissed out between them.

The Doctor paused, taking in the sight, feeling the quivering of the arm under her hand, held in absolute tension.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again, silent. The comfort on the tip of her tongue – the one designed to soothe, to calm frayed nerves and bid her to relax just wouldn't come out. It was too tangled up in her conscience, trapped in the mud of the reality that _this_ prisoner was no war hero, no victim… _this _woman suffered PTSD from either the act of murdering two people, or the isolation faced as a reasonable consequence of that act.

The feeling of values colliding with morals sent acrid chills up her spine and a heavy uneasiness settled in her stomach, as Maura felt for the umpteenth time in less than 24 hours how mightily out of her league she was.

She let a long sigh out of her nose. "I need to see these stitches." She moved her hand so that it was once again hovering above the edge of the white t-shirt. "I'm going to pull this up, but only half way, so I can look. Okay?"

No change. She didn't move, she didn't relax, she didn't look anywhere.

"Okay.." She answered the silence, shaking her head. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

She pulled the shirt upward in one motion.

A pained gasp echoed through the entire cell, bouncing across walls and ceilings and floors and corners and right into Maura's ears. She felt herself surrounded by it… and the panic in the sound drew her eyes straight to the woman's face.

Dark, thinly-set eyebrows rose up in the middle of her brow, creasing her entire forehead in fear. Her lips trembled and closed, in precise time with her eyes, her breathing increased in pace and before Maura could remove her hand, the soft sound of a whimper escaped her mouth.

Maura's heart immediately constricted in her chest.

"Hey…no, Hey-" She whispered, instinctively stroking her thumb once over the orange-clad arm, laying her other hand gently on her stomach. "It's okay… I won't hurt you it's-"

The image of Jackson Tait flashed before her eyes.

No. _Not _a war hero.

She stopped, again tumbling over her words until they came to a complete stop, and turned away for a moment to gather herself.

"_Damnit.._" She hissed angrily, though whether it was directed at herself or the woman, she wasn't sure. "Damnit.." She repeated again, and with a frustrated growl she let go of the woman's arm, and reached behind her into the medical case. Her fingers closed around the item she needed without her even having to look.

The needle flashed once in the light before she slowly slid it through the material into soft flesh.

Korsak had been correct about that, too.

"This will make it easier…" She murmured, the awful weight in the pit of her stomach growing. "For both of us."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **Thanks for being patient - and for your amazing words of encouragement and frustration - I know, I did said it was AU, right? Slow, yes? But this might be... a little something more :)

And longer! Told you it existed

Hope you enjoy

Tx

* * *

><p>Prometheus: Chapter 8<p>

* * *

><p>With a resolute sigh, Maura knocked softly on the cell door. Sergeant Korsak, who was still facing away from the small window, turned without looking and moved quickly to unfasten the lock, stepping past her as the door opened.<p>

"She's sedated." She said, her voice thicker than she intended. This time she caught the sideways glance he gave her, and it made her insides twist over themselves. His attention turned back to the figure on the floor, pulling out his keys in preparation to unbind her cuffs. "I'll be outside." She said.

Why did she feel so tired, all of a sudden?

Once he had returned to the corridor and the door had been closed, Maura pulled at the edges of her jacket, wrapping them as tightly around her as she could. She was going to have to speak with Jameson about the temperature down here.

They were silent all the way to the elevator, and in the end, it was Korsak who broke the silence as they ascended to the ground level.

"We… got off on the wrong foot, Doctor." He said. Maura noted the gruffness that had seemingly been ever present from his voice was absent, and it was lighter, smoother than she thought it would have been. "There is… a personal connection with Rizzoli that I sometimes-"

"I understand, Sergeant." She cut him off gently, stepping out of the elevator and turning her head to face him as he followed after her. "And… I am truly sorry for your loss."

She saw his eyebrows lurch upward in surprise, before settling back down with a small shake of his head. "Frost…" He said. "That man will never learn to keep his mouth shut."

"On the contrary I have the impression he was at pains to tell me, but felt it was.." She searched for the right word. "-relevant given our first encounter for me to know." They walked towards the entrance, and through it Dr Isles could see the spattering of a light rain against the glass and on the path leading to the infirmary. The drops hung in the air like a fine mist, giving the impression that it was far earlier, or later in the day than it really was. "He speaks very highly of you." She said, turning back toward him. "He seemed to feel that we would get along."

Sergeant Korsak ran a sturdy hand over his neatly trimmed beard. "Frost and I go back a long way." He said. "I introduced him to his wife." He turned to her with a lighter smile on his face, and leaned in slightly, whispering "But don't think for a second he'll give me the credit for it."

Maura chuckled, feeling the weight of the morning just a fraction lighter on her shoulders. When they reached the entrance to the building Korsak pushed open the door for her, and she exited first with a gracious nod of her head. But when she didn't follow, she turned and paused

"Sergeant?"

"I have a meeting with Jameson." He said. "But I… wanted to apologise, for the way this started... _and _continued." He stepped close enough to the door that it swung into the side of his foot, propped open. "It was… unprofessional. It isn't my place to question you, Doctor Isles. And I never should have. I don't know how you do what you do – heal people like this…" He shook his head. "Goodness knows I couldn't do it."

There was no malice or intent behind his words, and she understood.

She smiled at him.

"Please, call me Maura."

He nodded. "Vince." He said. He turned to leave, the stopped, as if uncertain of something, before turning back again. "I… made sure she was comfortable, before, y'know… so she wouldn't end up with a crick in her neck when she woke up."

Her smile widened, and she nodded. "Thank you."

"I'll see you around, Doc."

* * *

><p><em>She was aware of the cold before anything…<em>

_Her stomach burned, she could feel each blood vessel, like it was bursting one by one._

_Had she let her guard down? Had they forced their way in?_

_No… instead she remembered a face – eyes, green like leaves, a hand, warmth on her leg, and arm. A voice… calling, soothing… Soothing? For someone like her?_

_It didn't fit._

_No, keeping your guard was the only way to survive, in here._

_And she was here forever._

_Fists clenched, aching. The cold, she learned, made them this way. She looked down at them… and saw the blood…. gushing, flowing, seeping through the lines of her palm like new veins on the outside of her skin. New veins of someone else's blood._

_Murderer._

_That was what she was, now._

_And she had to stay inside._

_Stay inside yourself_

_Or they will break you._

* * *

><p>It had been almost exactly 48 hours since she last found herself in this exact spot. In that time, both everything and nothing had seemed to have occurred in congruence.<p>

The Nothing was what had happened in the infirmary – beyond routine visits from inmates with pre-existing health conditions such as diabetes, epilepsy and one surprisingly charming elderly inmate with a recently fitted pacemaker. There was also of course the ongoing treatment of Martinez and Reece, the former of the pair made eligible for release back into the blocks with a cast on her arm and a 72hr check-in regimen.

But there was none of the drama of the first 48 hours. And as Levi Walken – the third orderly she would meet – had indicated, the unquestionable reason behind the quiet was little to do with luck and everything to do with the figure locked down in isolation.

As if everything were just so much more _calm_ when she wasn't involved.

On the other hand, the Everything was the maelstrom reeling inside Doctor's mind, from curiosity all the way to crisis of conscience. The conflicted feelings she had experienced the last time she had treated Rizzoli still weighed heavily on her. That whole time, she had felt like an alien version of herself – a person and a medical professional she didn't know. It was extremely unsettling, in an environment that was unsettling enough.

She had not been party to the Rizzoli everyone knew. All she had was a vague picture at best, interspersed with minute interactions over the past 24 hours that helped to fill in only some of the gaps. There were clearly only two safe states for Rizzoli – completely sedated, or completely alert. The in-between was too volatile, too disoriented. But alert? Nobody seemed keen to work with her in that state.

Maura didn't blame them.

But there was without question a balance here, somewhere, amidst the chaos. And Maura needed to find it. Fast.

So she had gone home that night, and done what she did best. She researched.

And now, standing in front of the same cell with the same man she had only two days ago, she had a new plan of attack.

The Doctor could tell the moment the woman's hands were thrust out of the chute, that they were hurting. The way the fingers curled inward, unable to straighten, palms held outward like concave mirrors.

"Straighten up, Rizzoli, don't screw around." Maura winced at his tone, and the sight of the hands, shaking with exertion as they attempted to straighten into a form they were barely able to. She tightened her grip on the medical case and she opened her mouth to say something but decided better of it, watching as the cuffs were clasped against her wrists, then attached to the chain from her permanently shackled ankles.

The hands immediately withdrew, and Maura could hear the sound of them retreating further into the cell, the clashing of metal as she dropped down onto the floor, against the far wall.

"I'll come in with you," Korsak said, lifting the security key to the lock "To make sure it's safe while you-"

Maura placed a gentle hand on his forearm. "No." She said. "I'm not sedating her."

Korsak paused over the lock, his eyebrows knotted together. "Doc, I know I said I shouldn't question you but- that is the stupidest, most dangerous-"

"Sergeant-" She cut him off, then softened. "Vince." She continued, seeing him initially bristle, then relax a fraction. "You said the other day you don't know how I do it? Well-" The doctor bit her bottom lip. "In all honesty, neither do I." She squeezed his forearm gently. "But I do know that the only chance… they _only_ chance I have to do my job right, is if she is who she is."

There was an agonising silence, before a noisy breath passed his lips and he shook his head. "I'm going in with you then," He said.

But Maura shook her head again, resolute. "No." She said, "I go in at my own risk, I understand that, but I need to be in there on my own."

At that, Korsak spun around. "Are you _crazy!?_" He hissed. "Do you even know what she _did?_? What she did to those people!?" His eyes searched hers, waiting, expecting. She gave him the truth, and he passed a shaking hand over his face . "Jesus fucking Christ," He whispered. "You haven't read it, have you?"

"No.." She said softly. The truth. A deliberate, calculating truth. "Articles yes. The file? no."

Korsak snorted, tilting his head to the ceiling . "Articles are bullshit. They don't even have half the information…"

"I know." She answered. "I do know-" Her voice was quieter now. "And- I know it doesn't make sense to you but… for now, this- this is what is necessary. For me."

He shook his head. "Doc," He breathed again. "You have to understand these people… they're not… normal – they're in here because they've done things – terrible things…"

"I know Korsak." Maura removed her hand from his arm. "But-" He looked over to her and she held his gaze. "I'm going to need you to trust me."

She watched the wheels turning in his head, imagining him weighing her request against the consequences of the action. His eyes flicked to the window, then back again, and Maura wondered if maybe he was measuring the time it would take him to get inside should anything happen to her. She could almost _hear _him thinking, almost hear it the moment the cogs slowed, and clicked finally into place.

"Jesus…" He shook his head, "-I must be mad…" swiping the access card over the lock he pushed at the door, and gestured inside, "I'll wait here, but if I see even a hint of trouble-"

Maura nodded, a combination of relief and trepidation flooding through her. "I'll be relying on those reflexes of yours."

The sound of her heels on the cell floor echoed more loudly than she had expected, almost as much as the sound of the door sliding closed behind her. For a moment she stood very still, focusing on calming her rapidly beating heart, feeling an almost palpable danger caressing the recycled air around her, in through her nose, out through her mouth.

Like she was adjusting to altitude.

The woman was leaning back against the wall, in the same position as she had been on the Doctor's previous visit. Her head was bowed, hair hung loose and long over her face and down over her shoulders. Unlike last time her knees were drawn up closer to her body, hands resting between them, hidden from view.

"It's you."

The voice was hoarse and quiet, but clear, and there was an edge to it that was unmistakeable. Maura was keenly aware that this was the first time she had been in the presence of this woman without her being sedated, or feverish.

Maura waited one more breath, then moved slowly and deliberately towards her.

"Yes, it's me." She said, her voice even and unwavering. "It's been 48 hours. Your dressing needs changing."

When she lowered herself down to the floor of the cell, she ensured there were still two feet between them. She laid her medical case out to her left and clicked it open. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw the woman flinch at the sound.

"Coming in alone, huh?" She rasped, lifting her head and leaning back against the wall. Her face was still partially concealed thanks to the mane of raven hair, but Maura could see her staring across to the other side of the cell, defiant.

"Yes, that is generally how I like to conduct my practice." Maura kept the conversation – at least from her end – decidedly matter-of-fact. "I prefer not to work with an audience."

The dark head rolled towards her, eyes cast down, searching the contents of the medical kit. A momentary fear shot up the Doctor's spine as she imagined what the woman might be looking for – scalpel? Syringe? Any other item that could be used as a weapon?

And just as the last option came to Maura's mind, and the back of her neck tingled with adrenaline, the eyes flicked up.

Unlike the last time she had seen them, wide and unfocused, these were clear, sharp, and impossibly dark. Maura felt a scrutiny that reached beyond her face – one that went further, far past her own eyes…. Straight through impression and right down to _intention_.

She had rehearsed this.

"I want you to show me your hands." She said, almost surprising herself with the steadiness of her voice.

The look that passed over the other woman's face was one of curiosity mixed with suspicion, a slight straightening of her head, tiny furrow of her brow. Deliberately Maura turned and reached over to the medical kit, her fingers resting on a small foil bag that stood out amongst the array of other items.

"I know they hurt." The doctor said, pulling out two small packets from the bag. The dark-haired woman craned her neck forward slightly, eyes watching her carefully. "A complete piercing injury like that, would create a great deal of scar tissue. This cold would be making it worse."

She reached forward into the neutral space between them. When the woman made no attempt to move she gestured outward again, waiting.

She heard the gentle rattle of metal as slowly, the woman brought her hands from their hiding spot and out towards her. Maura winced internally at the sight – palms rounded, clearly in pain, fingers curled inward. The beds of her nails were a light shade of blue, partially due to the cold, and partially to what would invariably be a lack of proper blood circulation due to the injuries.

"Here-" Maura deposited one small packet into each of her palms, and as if the action were nothing, she pressed down on her fingers, curling them further inward. "They should help."

The woman blinked in surprise for a moment as the exposure to air took effect on the items enclosed within her hands, as she returned them to their original resting place between her knees. Maura knew they would be starting to warm.

"I used these in my gloves in mid-winter." She said. "Chicago winters have been brutal."

Dark eyes narrowed suspiciously, and then finally of their own volition they slid closed, her head tilting softly back against the wall. Dr Isles smiled a little in satisfaction. The look on the other woman's face was… relief.

"Hold onto them for a while, while I check your wound." She said. "I'll have to take them back with me when I leave."

It was totally unlike her earlier experiences, when the woman had been too suspicious, or too distressed to allow proper examination, Maura had relatively calm and easy access to the areas she needed. She was careful, of course, cognisant of how easy it would be for the woman to flick her wrists to the right and deal her a blow savage enough to knock her unconscious. And as she had taken the unusual step of choosing to treat without an armed guard present, the risk was even greater.

Still, it was a risk she was willing to take, and in less than a minute, it would pay off in a way Maura never expected.

"Why?"

Pausing for a moment, Maura pursed her lips.

"You know the answer to that." She answered, almost in a chiding way.

She brushed the antiseptic over the woman's abdomen, pulling back slightly when she felt her flinch and hiss in pain. Maura was momentarily drawn to the incredible definition of her abdominal structure – the woman was a walking encyclopaedia of the muscular system. Each one defined, clear, shaped.

"I am your project." She said, gravelly.

Maura paused, suppressing the chill that travelled up her spine at the words, closing her eyes for a brief moment. "No." She said, resolutely, opening them again. "You are my patient."

The other woman snorted. "I can't decide…" She said, "If you're crazy, or stupid." She pulled at her chains, yanking them up to the Doctor's eye line. "I am a murderer."

She felt an exasperated sigh leave her nose as the truth swirled around them both. "That's… what you're in here for, yes. But-" She busied herself with the dressing on the woman's stomach, assessing the flesh that, despite the bruising around it, was actually now beginning to heal nicely around the stitches. "As I have already told you, up to now you've done nothing to hurt me. Nothing that should make me afraid of you."

The hands fell away.

"You should be." She muttered, turning away from her. "It's safer."

The Doctor couldn't shake the feeling that there was a twinge of… regret? In her voice.

"Well..." She answered, doing her best to remain nonchalant as she replaced the dressing, and carefully taped around the edges, sealing it closed. "That's really up to you, isn't it?" She glanced upward. "Besides, I wouldn't be working here if personal safety was my one and only concern." She braced her hands on her knees, and leaned back. "Alright Rizzoli, the dressing will hold for another 48 hours."

Reluctantly, she held out her hands, motioning for the return of the heat pads. The woman glanced down at them, and Maura thought she detected a subtle shift in her expression, just a flash, just a moment, before it was gone.

Longing.

She reached over, the sound of her chains rattling with the movement bouncing off the bare walls of the room, and dropped the pads into Maura's outstretched hand.

It was a silly thing to do, on reflection, and against everything she had told herself she would. But had Maura been honest with herself from the start, she would have known there was something inexplicable that drew her to this woman, and for that reason, her next move wouldn't have been at all surprising.

She caught one of the hands in hers – the left – watching the dark haired woman's face carefully. Slowly, she pressed her thumb against the soft flesh on the underside of her knuckles, and moved it in a slow, firm, circle, massaging away the tension.

The woman blinked rapidly, and stared at the administration to her hands, her brow furrowed.

"What-" Her voice was softer, weaker than Maura had heard before.

"You should try this yourself, 10 minutes each side," The Doctor explained gently, "-every few hours. It helps to stimulate blood flow and should reduce the pain a little." Finishing with the woman's left hand, she released it and held open her palms expectantly.

She only had to wait a few moments – just enough time for her to take two steadying breaths.

_What was she **doing**?_

But before she could rationally answer her own question Rizzoli's right hand was hovering above hers. She took it quietly, and repeated the motion, easing her thumb over the callouses, into the muscle and over the scars. Left to right. Repeat. Her mind was reeling from the intimacy of the gesture, like she'd suddenly drawn close to an impossibly hot flame, and if she didn't watch herself, she would be burned.

"Jane."

The word was softly spoken, barely above a whisper. Maura looked up, finding herself once again pierced by eyes as dark as tar. The eyes had lost all of their edge, their hardness, their anger. For a moment, all she saw was loss, and loneliness… and fear.

"My name." She said, then shrugged. "For what it's worth."

A smile widened on the Doctor's face despite herself, and she found herself squeezing the tips of the other woman's fingers gently.

"Maura." She said. "It's nice to meet you."

There was the sound of the door unlocking and in that instant the moment was gone, and once again the prisoner, Rizzoli, with her hardened glare and care for nothing reappeared. She pulled her hands from Maura and turned away, the rattle of chains now the only sound in the room.

Maura's hands dropped over her knees, her mind unsure exactly how to process what had just happened. She felt both elated and afraid and seared by fire all at the same time.

But at the sound of Korsak clearing his throat behind her, Maura's head lowered and she sighed.

"House call is finished, Rizzoli." She said, gathering up her items from the concrete floor.

"I'll see you in a few days."

There was no response, not that she expected one. But the look on Korsak's face spoke volumes, and she knew, she would have some explaining to do.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **Oh my... thank you so much for the reviews, especially for the last chapter - I want to scream "I'm not worthy!" at the top of my lungs but it would wake the neighbours and possibly result in the police arriving at my door... so instead, and also in honour of it being Sunday night and nearly the new week I present to you a new chapter! But warning it is a LOOOONNNNG one. So I apologise if that is not your thing, but I had nowhere I wanted to split it. Just find an appropriate place to stop, have a cup of tea - or two - and return.

Seriously, the reviews are... humbling. Daunting. Terrifying actually. But in a good way.

I know everyone has expectations - the thing about a thing like this is... well... there's only one way it's going to go, and I can't guarantee everyone will like it, and although I hope beyond hope that you are all still with me to the end I know it's possible that you won't be - in which case, that's okay too (but I will be secretly sorry I let you down :) )

Phew - deep breath.

Now more

Tx

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><p>Prometheus: Chapter 9<p>

* * *

><p>The confrontation that Dr Isles expected never came. Not in a manner of words, anyway. Korsak had escorted her to the elevator in absolute silence, making no eye contact, and where before he had made a point of walking her to the exit of the building, this time she stepped out of the elevator and onto the ground level alone.<p>

It had been disconcerting; she was ready with an argument, with a justification for her actions. She was ready for the argument she would receive in return and the emotionally charged interplay between them - her for her values and him for his family. She had almost hoped for it.

It was very hard to combat a conversation of nothing.

And thus, nothing had been resolved, until the next time they met.

On that occasion, two days later, she was to meet Jameson before her visit. That had been made abundantly clear through both a voicemail message on her cell and a pointed request relayed via her fourth orderly, Brett Akerman; a shorter, stouter version of Alex but with darker hair. Akerman was certainly the odd one out of the team. The other three; Alex, Susie and Levi all displayed a level of nervous respect for their new boss. Akerman, however, had none of the timid qualities of the others. He was brash, brazen and opinionated, and was far too enthusiastic about the injuries of the inmates, for Maura's taste.

And not just inmates either. Because right now, he seemed to be delighting in the fact she was being 'sent to the principal's office', in his own words.

Gently pressing her laptop closed and quietly reminding herself that there was always _one_, she thanked him nonchalantly for his message, making a mental note to discuss interpersonal savvy with him at a later date. Medical case in hand, exited her office with a forced, but convincing air of confidence.

* * *

><p>The door to Jameson's office was ajar when she reached it, and through the crack Dr Isles could clearly see the dark outline of his features. He had a file in his hand, open mid-way through, and he was scanning it with what seemed to her to be detached interest, a non-plussed expression on his face, licking his fingers each time he turned over a new page.<p>

She raised her hand to knock on the door when his voice cut through the space between it and the doorjam and bounced unpleasantly off her eardrums.

"Come in, Dr Isles."

Allowing herself a sigh she straightened her jacket, squared her shoulders and pushed the door open, moving as confidently into the room as she dared.

"You wanted to see me, Doctor?"

He folded the file closed, placing it on the desk to his right, and gestured at the seat on the other side.

"Please, take a seat."

With a grace long-practiced, she moved closer to the desk and lowered herself down into the proffered chair, crossing her legs and resting her entwined fingers over her knees.

And waited.

Jameson narrowed his eyes at her across the table, studying her carefully. Maura wasn't entirely sure what the topic of study was, but it didn't make her comfortable. Then after several moments, and with a click of his tongue he leaned back, lowering his hands.

"I'm not entirely sure I approve of your approach with Prisoner Rizzoli, Dr Isles." He said finally.

Well, he was certainly one to get to the point.

Maura bristled. "In what respect?" She asked, unable to keep the challenge from her tone. "Are you questioning my methods, sir? Or my morals? Because I can assure you-"

"-not questioning." He waved her off with a flick of his wrist. "I appreciate your background, Dr Isles. Where you come from, patients are there to be healed, because of accidents, or circumstance. They don't put themselves there because of criminal activity." He tilted his head. "It is not the same, and they cannot be treated the same way."

"Have you worked in a hospital, Dr Jameson?" Her voice was low. "I assure you, that 20% of the people admitted to the emergency ward are repeat 'offenders' if you will – drug addicts, alcoholics, the homeless, self-harmers… we see them all." She held up her hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Granted they are not criminals to this level." her hands lowered again "-but they're not there by accident. It doesn't mean I'm going to treat them any differently to any other patient."

"You are right, they are not criminals to this level." He folded his fingers together, the tips of his forefingers making a point against his chin. "As I understand…You haven't read up on your patient."

Maura held his stare. "I am aware of the details of her medical history and treatments, Doctor. The rest is my choice to know, or not."

"Is that wise?"

"I haven't read any of the other patients' background," She said with a casual shrug of her shoulders. "I don't know Reece's background or Martinez's, or any of the other prisoners I have seen in the last few days. Why would Rizzoli be the exception?"

"Are you not… curious, how her reputation came about?" He asked, a distasteful flourish lacing his voice. "She _has_ quite the reputation, you know."

Maura set her jaw and folded her arms carefully across her chest.

"I'm curious about the injuries to her hands." She said, "They are not in her medical file." She noticed the immediate pause on his face, and her eyes narrowed in satisfaction. "Or anywhere on any medical database." He glanced back up at her. Maura continued. "That is a lot of specific care, Doctor. At least one major surgery, and a lot of physical therapy, to be missing from a file."

He tilted his head back, nostrils flaring and a small knowing smile broadened on his face. "Ah, so you _have_ done research." He said. "How interesting."

"As I told you, no more than I would do for any other patient who is currently in my ward."

"I don't believe the isolation cells _are _your ward."

"I don't believe you are answering my question." She shot back, curtly. "And I do believe prisoner medical care _is_ my responsibility, regardless of where in the facility it is needed."

A small part of her was watching on in disbelief; wondering where this _other _version of herself had come from – a woman who would never have dreamed to challenge her superior in such a way, but was here, in his office, practically goading him to fight.

"We do not keep records on the origin of every bruise and scrape of every prisoner, Doctor." He said, raising a dark eyebrow. "Especially ones that occurred before they were incarcerated."

Maura couldn't hold the surprise from her expression and Jameson latched immediately onto it, easing back into his chair, his lips peeled back into a smile. The man was almost… triumphant… at the fact he had clearly unnerved her.

"You are being a bit selective with your information, aren't you?" He drawled, "You would have seen the photos, had you read it. The detail may not be there, but the pictures certainly are. We keep visual documentation of any significant pre-existing injury of any prisoner on admission to Bedford Hills." He leaned forward again. "For obvious reasons, you can understand."

_Significant pre-existing injury..._

A thousand thoughts were swirling through her mind, like a giant vortex – circumstances and possibilities diffusing into the empty space left by too many questions. Desperate not to let him see her conflict she shifted her hands to grip the arms of her chair.

"Of course." She said, composing herself carefully. "I understand and I- apologise for insinuating otherwise." Inwardly she was cursing herself. Since when did she _ever_ go into a discussion without doing the proper research? "Was there- something else?" She asked.

Jameson's eyes glinted. "No." He said. "You have given me more than enough."

Maura wondered what had just transpired in the conversation that had given him that much satisfaction to let his original concern go. It unnerved her.

Nevertheless she nodded, pursing her lips together, then nodded again. "Thank you for your time, Doctor." She said, stepping away from the desk and retreating to the door.

Just before she reached the handle she paused. "Actually," She said, "There was one thing-" She turned around just in time to see his eyes lifting upward from the very obvious location below her waist. She forced the shudder away.

"The temperature of the cells." She said.

Jameson tilted his head. "Yes?"

"They're unusually cold." She pulled at the edges of her jacket, something she realised had turned into a nervous habit - one she was going to have to curtail if she wanted to maintain any ground with this man. "I understand there are some maintenance works going on in the building but it is… decidedly uncomfortable, and as I'm sure you understand potentially dangerous, for anyone to be there for any length of time, if the temperatures get much lower."

Jameson glanced out of the window, his eyes resting on the light mist outside. "Indeed." He said. "Maintenance is working on it." He turned back to her. "I have no doubt it will be fixed soon. And if not-" He smiled. "I have no doubt you will let me know."

It was clear that was the end of the conversation, as fruitless as it seemed to her. Still, she was glad at least she had been able to express her concerns about the building. Given the impending storm on its way, heating was going to become imperative for anyone housed down there.

Especially for the woman she was on her way to see.

* * *

><p><em>Her body ached.<em>

_Again, cold, alone. Her hands... even when she tried to - to do what she was taught... _

_To do what felt better... _

_But it didn't. It couldn't. It wasn't the same._

_Was it worse than last time? Why-_

_Why worse than all the times before?_

_Was it her? _

_Was it the way she-_

_No... no feeling_

_You are a murderer_

_You feel nothing_

_At all_

* * *

><p>"I want you to know, that I don't agree with anything you are doing in there." They were the first words Korsak had spoken to her since they left the same hallway two days ago, and they were uttered stepping out of the elevator. He paused as the doors slid closed behind them, pressing his thick fingers to his nose. "But Frost has told me I need to back the hell up and trust you, so…" He dropped his hand and looked across at her, his entire face a shrug.<p>

Maura nodded gratefully - both for Frost and for the fact she was not going to be entering into her second argument of the day.

"I am not trying to do anything but my job, Sergeant." She explained as they continued down the stark corridor. "And I cannot do that without understanding my patient. And I cannot do _that_ -" She added, tucking a lock of hair back behind her ear, "-any other way than what I am doing now."

"The line you walk on is so razor-sharp, doctor." He muttered, looking down at his feet. "Slide either way and you're just as likely to get killed."

Dr Isles paused, halting him with a hand on his forearm. "I worked in Africa, for a year." She said softly. "for Medecins Sans Fontieres." Korsak's startled expression did not surprise her, it was typical of most people she told - and there were only a handful - and mostly involved some form of comment regarding her age. While Maura imagined the thought also crossing Korsak's mind, he remained silent, so she continued. "I- my team, worked in a warzone in Sudan for much of that time." She looked away. "We treated children, grandparents - men and women of all ages, often very serious wounds with very limited supplies. And every day we worked with the threat of being raided and attacked by militia." Then she closed her eyes, remembering Ian's warning as clear as if it were behind her now.

_'If they come Maura, you run. Take a gun, get the hell out of here and leave everyone behind. They will catch you, they will rape you, and then they will kill you.' _

The memory caused a shiver to dart up her spine and she drew a long breath through her nose, opening her eyes at its release. Korsak was staring intently at her, his mouth slightly ajar.

She nodded, and offered him a small smile.

"You see," She said, "I have lived on the edge of a knife, Sergeant. I have worked on the edge of one." She continued forward, the older man falling into step next to her.

"I'm sorry Doc I-" He stopped awkwardly, as they reached the door to Rizzoli's cell. "I... didn't know."

"Not many people do, Vince." She answered truthfully, turning towards him as he rapped on the window, signalling for the woman to approach. "But believe me, though I undertake everything fully accepting the risks, it doesn't mean I am unafraid."

As the woman approached the small window, thrusting her hands through the chute, Korsak chuckled once and shook his head.

"I knew you were smart." He said, "But I had no idea-"

He turned around, and Maura followed his line of sight to the hands awaiting their chains. The first time she had been distracted by her hands, but with more time and closer inspection she now was able to make out the bruising and lacerations to the woman's wrists, caused by the very cuffs being attached to her now. They slid away, and the Doctor heard the familiar sound of chains rattling as the woman moved back inside the cell, no doubt falling against the wall as she was last time. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, her stomach heavy with the anticipation of what this visit would bring.

"I'll be keeping an eye out-" Korsak said, raising his access pass to the door. It clicked open, and he pushed it inside.

Any relief at having the opportunity to clear the air with Korsak was swallowed up by the texture of the cell the moment Maura entered it, eyes seeking out the reason for her being there.

They settled on the familiar form, in a similar posture to how she had found her last time, except on this occasion she was leaning against the opposite wall, her head resting back against the concrete. Due to the angle her hair still covered much of her face, but she could still make out her nose, chin and right cheek where the older bruise had now faded to a yellowish-green.

"Hi there." She spoke at the figure, carefully steadying her voice. It was something she appeared to be getting a lot of practice of in the last few days.

No response.

The conversation with Jameson still fresh in her mind, the Doctor sought out the woman's hands, but found them resting protected between her knees, just as they had been before. Maura surveyed the situation carefully. This time to have proper access to Rizzoli's stitches she would need to walk _around_ her to her other side, which in turn would put 130 pounds of convicted criminal between her and the door.

The nervousness almost overwhelmed her. Was she being issued with a challenge?

"So we're back to that, now?" She asked, her rhetorical question dissolving into the concrete walls. Sure enough, no answer came. Maura felt her heartrate increase at the possibility their last interaction might have simply been an anomaly, and that the danger to her now was as present and as suffocating as it was when she was alone with her, sedated in the isolation room.

Keeping a good few feet away, the Doctor walked slowly into the small cell, pausing when she became level with Rizzoli's shackled feet.

She had come this far… and retreating was not in Dr Isles' vocabulary. Not in her professional one, anyway.

She hadn't made it anywhere with this woman playing it safe. And there was no doubt in her mind, she _had _made it somewhere.

The heat pads were already in her jacket pocket, so without the need to open and set up the medical case she simply placed it down in the middle of the cell, tucked the pads – already warm – into her right hand, closed the distance between them in three steps and lowered herself, not to her side, and not within a safe distance, but directly in front of her.

Eyes forward, hand outstretched, waiting.

Maura's heart was in her mouth. She knew, at any point Rizzoli could kick outward. Crack ribs, break her jaw, her nose... If she were nimble enough she could throw her chained ankles over the Doctor's head and force her face into the concrete.

As far as risks went, this was chart-topping. This was ridiculous.

It was-

The sound of the chain rattling in Maura's hypersensitive ears almost made her jump, and the possibility that indeed she was about to be deposited face-first onto the floor of the cell flashed across her mind. Only when the slightly-shaking hands reached forward, palms upturned did she realise the sound was coming from her wrists, and not her ankles.

With a silent sigh of relief, the Doctor carefully pressed a heat pad against each palm, trying not to grimace at how cold the woman's skin was. She glanced up to find herself the subject of study, eyes narrow and probing.

"Hi." She tried again.

No response.

Leaning back a fraction the Doctor moved to rest her right forearm against her knee and in doing so, accidentally brushed her hand past the woman's shin. Rizzoli inhaled sharply and flinched away.

"Whoa it's okay." Maura said, reaching out and curling her hand loosely around the fabric, just as she had done when she was sedated.

She knew immediately it was the wrong move.

Rizzoli's head was already pressed back against the wall of the cell, but now her breathing quickened, breaths noisy and sharp and she lifted her chin as if in preparation to fight. At her throat Maura could see the thudding of her pulse under her skin, the tendons in her neck pulled tight like steel cords, and where the top of her neck met her jawline Maura could make out the muscles of working, flexing, shifting.

Slowly and without breaking eye contact, she removed her hand and returned it quietly to her knee, pulling at a non-existent thread on the hem of her skirt as she considered her options. The expression on the woman's face did not change, not even the slightest twitch... until she opened her mouth.

"_Move._" She hissed.

The voice was low, and chilled Maura to the core. She gripped the hem of her skirt and she bit down hard on her lip to stop herself from scrambling away and fleeing outright.

"Rizzoli-"

"_MOVE!" _The hoarse bellow shifted the air around them, cutting through and cutting off any sound her throat might have deigned to make. It was Maura's turn to flinch, and she quickly rose to her feet, stepping backward and away from the simmering shadow in front of her.

But it was too late - out of the corner of her eye she could see Korsak moving in the window, hear the rattle of his keys as he scrambled to unlock the door. It grabbed Rizzoli's attention too, her head snapping to her left, chains scraping harshly against the floor as she pressed against the wall and levered herself upright. Maura didn't have time to reach anywhere near her medical case before Korsak burst through the cell door, the reinforced iron swinging inward with far more force than would be expected for something that heavy.

"Get down Rizzoli!" Korsak shouted, raising his gun.

"NO!" Maura barked, but now she could see a a black and orange blur lurching towards her at speed, and she couldn't help the flash of memory from her first morning at the infirmary pass behind her eyes.

"Doc!" Korsak shouted, "Rizzoli!"

"NO!" Maura threw up a hand towards her, then one to Korsak, her arms now outstretched like a clock reading 2pm.

"Doctor Isles I mean it-"

"No!" She repeated at him. "Stop."

She saw movement in her peripheral vision and spun back around, "Stop." She said firmly, again, staring directly into dark eyes. Adrenaline suffused her, seeping into every cell, every synapse, lighting it so bright she felt like a walking nuclear reaction. She knew she would be paying for that later.

"Doc!" Korsak hissed through clenched teeth. "You are going to get yourself killed."

"No I'm not." She turned back to the dark-haired woman, who was barely a step away from her, eyes flashing, fists clenched, chest heaving. Despite her words of reassurance there was no doubt in the Doctor's mind that even chained, it was more than possible for the woman to end her life.

"Rizzoli," She called firmly. Her hand held steady, as if an invisible barrier extended out from her fingers, protecting her, when really she knew it was only her words, the other woman's restraint, and possibly Korsak's gun that was doing the protecting. "I know. I intruded in your space. I made you feel threatened."

"Are you _kidding _me? Doc, I can't believe-"

"Sergeant please-" She said, not taking her eyes off the dark ones in front of her. "I shouldn't have done that." She said to her, "And I won't again. Sergeant Korsak and I will leave, but I came here to check on your stitches and replace the dressing, and I do need to do that, still."

"Not a chance in hell." He muttered, keeping his gun trained on the woman's head.

"Sergeant-" She said again, and took the dangerous step of closing her eyes in front of this woman to pinch the bridge of her nose, attempting to coax the pounding in her head to clear. She looked back at him. "Sergeant."

"Goddamnit..." He hissed, but slowly, he lowered his gun. The doctor nodded her thanks and turned back to the woman in front of her.

"You gave me a choice." Maura murmured. "You could have hurt me and you gave me a choice."

It felt like an eternity, that single moment suspended in time before Rizzoli finally blinked, her fists slowly unclenching in their restraints. Maura willed the lead weight down from her throat, willed her heart away from its dangerous peak and slowly lowered her hand. For the first time the Doctor noticed the absence of the heat pads, likely discarded on the floor somewhere where she had been sitting.

"It wont take long, okay?" She said, gently.

There was no answer, but the woman made no further move one way or another. She glanced quickly at Korsak, before slowly reaching down to the medical case, taking two steps backward to give herself enough room to open it without being too close. She snapped on a pair of latex gloves, gathered the items she needed into her hands and rose again.

Rizzoli shifted her weight on her feet, her eyes darting towards the far wall, then back to her. Dr Isles shook her head.

"No. We can do it like this." She answered the unspoken question. "You don't have to move." She saw that tiny flash of surprise she had seen on her last visit and Maura expelled a small sigh of relief. "You know why." She said softly. A tremble had begun in her hands and she clasped them tightly around the dressing and antiseptic wipes to still them. It could wait. It could all wait.

She tilted her head. "I'm going to need to step closer."

The doctor's reassurance came accompanied by the faint sound of steel links shifting together, as Rizzoli wordlessly moved her arms to her left, making room on the side of her body where the dressing was. As promised Maura stepped forward and to the side, until she was within reach, her fingers closing again around the fabric of the woman's shirt and t-shirt.

"Okay?"

The dark head turned towards her, eyes down at her feet. Maura watched as they slowly travelled the length of her legs, over her skirt, up her torso before finally resting on her face. The inspection was innocent, curious, and finished with yet again that look of question and surprise that Maura catalogued in her mind as almost... soft.

"You know why, Jane." She repeated, her breath catching somewhere in her throat.

Again she noted that she was standing between Rizzoli and the door, but this time the Doctor found herself oddly struck by the fact that at least in this position – while wholly unsafe for her – Rizzoli still had a modicum of privacy from the Sergeant. Breaking their eye contact she slowly lifted the material in her hand upward, exposing skin and the pale white of the dressing.

She pulled at the tape with practiced fingers and the old dressing fell to the ground. Dr Isles pressed her fingers lightly against the wound, allowing a satisfied breath to hiss through her lips at the improvement. The swelling had almost completely disappeared, except for a few puckered areas around the stitches. The bruise was healing nicely, and importantly, the smell of infection had all but disappeared.

"It's looking good." She murmured, mostly to herself. "The stitches can come out in two days."

Carefully, the Doctor pressed the antiseptic wipe over the area around the wound and then finally paused over the stitches. Expecting the physical response she had the last time, and the potential reaction from the man on the other side of the room, she tilted her head. "It's going to sting." She warned Rizzoli gently.

The moment the antiseptic touched the stitches she felt the woman tense, her jaw set and her eyes close, and heard the sound of a gasp swallowed in her throat.

"It's okay…" Maura whispered, too softly for Korsak to hear, and touched her fingers to the woman's forearm. Rizzoli's eyes opened, sliding to the right, and Maura could tell she was looking at her even though she never turned her head.

Carefully sealing the new dressing in place she lowered the woman's t-shirt and shirt, moving to step away.

But just before she could, the woman's shackled arms shifted down, the fingertips of her right hand brushing lightly past the back of her own.

It took everything Maura had not to flinch, not to gasp and not to cry. Her eyes slid closed for a moment as she willed the fear and the aggression that still hung in the room away from them, before opening her eyes again and smiling, whispering with a nod.

"You did good Jane. Really good."

She wouldn't be able to explain where the words came from. Or why, in that moment she chose to turn her hand and squeeze the tips of the woman's fingers, an echo of the way they had left their last encounter. Perhaps it was for her own reassurance, or perhaps, it was to say that despite everything that had happened, nothing had been broken.

She would never know, because a moment later the reality would hit her and she spoke more loudly to the room.

"Okay. We're done."

She stepped away, gathering up the old dressing in a medical disposal bag and pulling off her gloves. She heard the sound of Korsak holstering his gun and the gruffness of his voice as he commanded Rizzoli to stand back against the wall.

She did, slowly, giving Maura the space and opportunity to repack the Medical Kit and snap it closed, gathering it up in both hands.

"Meet you outside, Doc." Korsak said, his eyes still fixed on the woman now against the wall.

Maura nodded, and with a final glance in Rizzoli's direction she made her way outside the cell door.

Only once outside, did the Doctor allow the full impact of the last twenty minutes hit her. Adrenaline and fear and concern and elation and anger hit her all at once, and it was all she could do to keep her knees from folding in on themselves right here in the isolation block corridor. She turned to the wall, bracing against it with her outstretched hand, and drew in a shaky breath.

She closed her eyes, trying to still her thoughts, but all she could feel was the touch of the woman's fingers against her skin.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Still with me? How's that tea going? I recommend Tim Tams - they're a great tea biscuit.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **Ohhh boy... do I owe apologies. Big, huge, grovelling ones for how long this has taken (and yes to any people following Puzzles also, that extends equally to you). I have no rational excuse other than shifting roles at work and work kicking my ass and... well for some reason both muses cracked it with me and weren't talking, so therefore I wasn't talking. But I think we're back, and Sunday is my day off, soooo - aiming for some good writing time.

In the meantime this is half of a chapter, but I wanted to get something out... so I apologise that it is shorter than the previous one. But once more back into the fray :)

**Author's Note 2: **There's a bit of foul language in this one. I am unsure how this works but I just wanted to warn you all.

Thank you so much for sticking with me - hope you enjoy.

Tx

* * *

><p>Prometheus: Chapter 10<p>

* * *

><p><em>"<em>_I don't know."_

_"__How do you feel, about what happened to you?"_

_"__I…. You know the answer-"_

_"__Angry."_

_"__That's right."_

_"__You were made a victim."_

_"__Yes."_

_"__And you didn't have a choice."_

_"__He didn't give me one."_

_"__Is that why you didn't give them a choice? The two people in that house?"_

_"__I- I don't know… I didn't-"_

_"Jane, you know what you did... what they found."_

_"I know- I just-"_

_A gasp… air cool and burning and painful. Painful like… remembering. Fuck - she promised she wouldn't do this, wouldn't go there. Knuckles ground into the concrete, relishing the feeling of skin tearing, pain closing the void that threatened to send her consciousness reeling._

_What the hell had just happened? _

_She knew the moment those bars slid shut there was no future. And she… she had no past. Other than murder._

_She was nothing._

_…'__Is that why you didn't give them a choice?'…._

_No…. NO! she shook her head free of the words, knuckles ground further, but it wasn't- it wasn't working… new ones swirled into their place… foggy… confusing. _

_'__You gave me a choice. You could have hurt me and you gave me a choice..'_

_New words. New, recent words. Different Truth. She could have hurt her but she gave her the choice. _

_Blood – trickling over her hand, into fabric – red against orange, red against cool white concrete. Red.. blood. Her blood._

_This doctor… this woman wasn't going to hurt her._

_Was it not the __**right **__choice?_

* * *

><p>The sound of her pen tapping against the corner of her desk had become a slow, steady rhythm that for the last twenty minutes had corralled Maura's thoughts into some semblance of order. She squinted at her laptop screen, the forefinger of her free hand hovering above the cursor as her eyes scanned along the list of icon-sized photos.<p>

_'__Significant pre-existing injury.'_

"Where are you…" She whispered at the screen.

The Doctor knew what she was looking for was already captured and printed in full colour in the filing cabinet just inches away from her left knee. She knew she could pluck it out at any time, flip through the leaves within and in less than five minutes find the answer to her question.

_When._

But Maura had been adamant that the file remain closed to her. It contained context… detail… that for now, she refused to associate with the woman in that cell. The woman she had just held back from launching at her with nothing more than persuasion and an outstretched hand.

Would she have even dared, had she understood the detail? Unlikely. They did always say the devil is in the detail.

"Damnit.." She hissed, as she came to the end of the list for the third time. There was no reason for her to expect anything different, but her frustrated sigh still punctuated the air of her empty office.

A sudden commotion in the infirmary ahead of her diverted her attention. Hand braced on her desk she stood, slowly, watching through the expansive windows as two well-built prison officers dragged a similarly tall, heavily set woman with red-auburn hair shouting and cursing into one of the isolation rooms.

It occurred to the doctor that this was the first time she had seen anyone other than Rizzoli in those rooms.

She shook it away.

Susie Chang's face appeared at the window, her eyes wide with concern as she reached for the doorhandle. Maura was already crossing the room to the door when it opened, revealing her flustered orderly in front of her, wisps of dark hair spattered across her face, having come free of the loose ponytail.

"Dr Isles-" She blustered, holding up a hand. "We have- There's just been- It's a.. situation."

A _situation_ – was that not the common state of being of the prison? Placing a steadying hand on the smaller woman's upper arm, Maura squeezed it once, reassuringly. "Susie? What is it?"

As if not expecting the contact the young orderly immediately tensed, before relaxing a fraction within the next instant. "One of the prisoners has – Ramsey-" Chang paused expectantly... in a way that made Maura feel somehow she _should_ know this prisoner by name. When it became obvious to Susie it wasn't the case, she glanced around nervously then looked back at the doctor. "-she has a significant laceration to her leg, the muscle looks like it has been torn clean through, she's bleeding everywhere, I think, I think-"

"Okay Susie," Dr Isles interrupted softly, motioning her back outside with a hand to her shoulder. "She's in ISO-2, correct?"

"Yes-"

"Get an IV of antibiotic ready, suture kit and saline. Let's at least see how far this laceration goes before we begin making assumptions. I don't like assumptions – they are just guesses with purpose. And I don't guess."

As if suddenly recharged by the direction Chang's eyes flashed and she smiled. "Yes Doctor." She said with a rush of air, disappearing into the main infirmary as the Doctor closed her office door behind her and made her way purposefully to the very same ISO room where her experience with Bedford Hills began.

Her gaze fell onto the reddish-brown trail that smeared all the way from the entry of the infirmary, under the door to ISO-2 and continued to the centre of the ward where in a flurry of orange limbs, spatters of red and the darkly dressed prison officers, Ramsey was hauled onto the bed and deftly restrained.

"Fuck!" The voice peeled softly through the double-glazed glass, Maura only wondered how loud it must sound inside. "_FUCK!"_

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Susie hurrying towards her. The sound of the medical tray sliding across the concrete floors reminded the Doctor of the ER at Northwestern – it was a momentary familiar comfort in amongst her reeling senses and fraying nerves.

With a short, sharp, calming breath Maura lifted her access pass to the door. The moment the familiar magnetic click reached her ears she pressed the door forward and flinched as the air carried shrill words out of the small gap that move created, curling through the space and echoing violently down the corridor.

"Fucking – I'm going to fuck you all up, you're all fucking _dead_."

Susie pulled up short, the tray now rattling with the inertia of the sudden move. Hoping the conviction would reach her eyes Maura tossed a second encouraging look in the younger woman's direction and beckoned her forward, before turning back to the job at hand and pushing the door further open.

"AHHH! I'm gonna die - you fuckers!"

In an enclosed space the words sounded like a thousand speakers were lined along the walls, all blasting inward. Maura took a resolute step forward, and swept her eyes across the detail –the two guards, the bed, the back of the prisoner's head, the writhing of legs and arms against leather restraints, the drips of blood falling to the floor. She motioned back to one of the guards – who sported a long dark stain down his right pant leg.

"Not mine." He said, gruffly.

With a quick nod, Maura glanced over her shoulder to Chang who was inching closer into the room

"FUCK!" The word was spat out with the aggression of a person almost ready to kill the very air she was breathing. "Can no-one fucking hear me here!? I'm fucking _dying _here!"

"You are not going to die." Maura said.

"Who the _fuck!?_"

Setting her jaw, the Doctor moved closer to the bed, stepping along it so she was finally in eyeshot of the woman.

_Ramsey._

Blue, piercing eyes stared back at her, "Ohh… Hello pretty thing…" The greeting flicked out of her mouth like a snake's tongue. Lips curled back revealing a smile full of crooked teeth.

Maura felt herself grow instantly cold.

"You are not dying." She repeated, measuredly. "Though there is certainly a deep gash and I do need to repair it… There is not adequate blood loss to suggest arterial damage." Pausing a moment, she let her face soften. "Though I'm sure it is painful."

There was a silent beat, where the woman did nothing but stare at her, and the only sound in the room was the slow dripping of blood against the concrete floor. Maura dared to take a step closer. Until-

"As painful as my fist will be in your cunt, bitch." Maura blinked, and Ramsey's eyes flashed triumphantly. "But you're too proper to scream when you come, aren't you?"

"HEY!" Came a bellow behind them, and Maura saw one of the prison guards approach out of the corner of her eye. She motioned for him to stop by holding out her hand. "Shut the fuck up Ramsey." He spat, "Or you're going to spend your lifetime in isolation."

Ramsey craned her head around to attract his attention, and Maura used the opportunity to motion Susie closer inside and move herself nearer to the bed. Every single nerve in her body was on edge…every fibre of her being repelled her from the situation. Every fibre that is, except her medical training. Because even from where she was standing she could tell that wound was clearly deep, and continuing to seep through both the fabric of her pants and the tourniquet, sending droplets of blood onto the floor beneath her.

There was little doubt in Maura's mind the injury was not life threatening, unless it became infected. All she had to do was stitch it, wrap it, and hook the woman up to a course of antibiotics for two days. Simple… just like Rizzoli.

Except-

The woman spun her head back around and narrowed her eyes – cobalt and cold.

"Oh, you sweet thing, I will fill you so much you wouldn't have a choice but to come so fucking hard it blew your brains out." She drawled.

"Ramsey!"

Without a seconds further hesitation Dr Isles reached across to the makeshift table, her fingers wrapping around the familiar syringe lying on cool metal. She saw the flash of recognition in the woman's eyes before she took an assertive step forward and plunged the small needle into the woman's arm.

The effect was instantaneous, but even as consciousness slipped away from the woman, Maura caught the slurred last comment that escaped her lips, internally recoiling at the chill that settled in her stomach.

"You bitch... I'll... make a screamer... out of you."

* * *

><p>Her fingers flew across the open file on her desk, over the history, the photos, the convictions. Four murders, two sexual assaults. Armed robbery. Fourteen years into three consecutive life sentences. Maura quietly pondered the fact that of all the people she had met, Ramsey had been here the longest. Seventeen infirmary stays including two visits to ICU at the nearby hospital. Twenty Five stints in isolation... including one for 3 months (and another 12 years added to her sentence) as a consequence of killing another inmate.<p>

Maura chewed on the inside of her cheek - then was immediately frustrated by the action. It was an old nervous habit, but had resurfaced several times in the last few days. It was one that Ian would always see through until she learned to curb it.

This woman, was certainly dangerous.

The sound of the door creaking open - and closed again - barely made its way to her ears until the shadow of a figure materialised into her peripheral vision. With a soft sigh Maura looked up, to find Frost standing ahead of her, hands shoved deep into his pockets, rocking back onto the heels of his feet.

"So…" He said, "I see you've just been acquainted with Louise Ramsey?"

Shooting a glance at the material in front of her, Maura nodded. "Yes." She said, looking back up at him.

"Phheew!" He shook his head, staring at the ceiling. "Well I have to say it, Doc-" He continued, turning his gaze back down to her. Maura found it... soft... "In terms of initiation to Bedford hills you've certainly accelerated. Rizzoli and Ramsey in the first week…." He shook his head again and clicked his tongue against his teeth.

Maura half-shrugged at him, then raised her eyebrows. "Luck?" She suggested, daring a small smirk.

Frost threw her a lopsided smile. "Drink?"

The doctor felt her shoulders droop in relief. "Gosh, yes." She said, then shook her head, laughing. "I can't believe I am actually saying this but I don't even care what vintage they're serving, I'll drink it!"

Grinning, Frost stepped around her desk and held out his hand, motioning for her to take it. Unaccustomed to such a familiar gesture from someone she had just met, Maura hesitated at first - fleeting worries about protocol and personal boundaries holding her back.

As if sensing her hesitation Frost took a step forward. "Come on, Doctor, I won't bite." He said jovially, extending his hand further. "Though I can't speak for the Chardonnay."

She stared one more time at the outstretched hand, the events of the last few days attempting to rationalise themselves around any potential social interaction. And while no answer was immediately forthcoming, the arguments against were equally absent. Finally, Maura reached forward, her fingers sliding easily into his larger palm. She flipped the file closed with her other hand as she rose from her chair.

What did she have to lose?


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: **Okay, this... would be part 2 of chapter 10? Can I call it that? Because we're not quite into Maura/Rizzoli territory yet but this bit definitely has to happen first... and I PROMISE it is coming, next chapter, I promise. And I'm really really looking forward to it too :) But don't give up on this chapter.. because.. well.. context, aaand information. And things.

Thank you all for your support and your patience and wonderful comments.. really I am so appreciative you guys take the time to even read let alone say something about what you're reading :) It keeps this thing ticking along, really it does, you have no idea. But have to say a particularly big thank you and shout out to T and the two Rams in my ear and my inbox - you know who you are - these chapters may be taking a bit more time to form than I would otherwise like but the fact it's moving forward at ALL has a lot to do with your respective boots in the muse's backside ;)

Tx

* * *

><p>Prometheus - Chapter 11<p>

* * *

><p>It bubbled up from within her like soda in a bottle shaken one too many times, the shuddering attempt to contain the gasp that drew violently through her mouth, trapped in her attempts at restraint only to find another way in...<p>

And Dr Maura Isles, picture of delicacy and etiquette –

Snorted.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes and shielding her mouth and nose from view with the same hand, the smile too wide not to be reflected in almost every muscle of her face. She gripped her other arm across her aching stomach.

The man across from her showed no such care for poise. Still in the throes of near-paralytic laughter himself, he rocked backward into his chair, shaking his head, teeth bright against the dim light shining over the table.

"My God Doctor-" He sputtered, a faint wheeze on his breath. "If you could have seen this guy – and the look on Susie Chang's face!" He leaned forward again, his hand rubbing over his shortly cropped hair. "I find your preamble quite stimulating…!?" The quote included an attempt at a Connecticut/Boston hybrid upper-class accent, before it lilted into an uncontrollable whine, then a stronger wheeze, and Frost trailed off, his shoulders shaking.

Maura found herself giggling again, her hand releasing her stomach and finding its way to the stem of her wine glass. "I can't say that would be a line I've ever been wooed with.." Her voice squeaked, fresh tears pricking mercilessly at her eyes. "Or would ever want to!"

Frost gripped his beer and managed a large gulp, cautiously swallowing around the threat of more laughter. Maura shook her head. It wasn't like her to engage in this sort of humorous discussion at another person's expense, but based on Frost's account of events at the Halloween party Dr Pike had been inebriated and his behaviour _awfully _unprofessional.

Plus, after the last few days she couldn't deny the rush of endorphins she was now exposed to felt simply wonderful.

"Goodness…" She said finally, her facial muscles relaxing into a more regular and less cheek-splitting shape. She took several shaky breaths and dabbed the bar napkin once more at her eyes. "I needed that."

"Tell me about it-" Frost agreed, still smiling too brightly to be considered solemn. He swallowed another mouthful of beer. "The people we deal with every day?" He shook his head. "And you!" He continued, jabbing a finger at her and narrowing his eyes. "You've had trial by fire, Doctor."

Maura rolled her shoulders back unconsciously, feeling the pop of ligament sliding against bone. She leaned into her glass and took a delicate sip.

"Ramsey was certainly…." She paused, tilting the wine toward her as if it would provide her with the appropriate adjective. "Surprising."

"_Surprising?" _She looked up to find Frost cradling his own glass in his large hands, astonishment written across his features.

Maura released a sigh. "Unsettling…" She clarified.

Frost raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair again. "I'm… _surprised_," He emphasised the use of the word, "-That Ramsey is the first name that has come to your mind, given your experience over the last few days."

She broke eye contact with him immediately, Frost caught it.

"Doc..." He said quietly.

"I know," Maura immediately held up her hands in an act of futile defence. "-I know." She repeated. "If it were me in your position I would think the same thing. I.. I_ have _thought the same thing as a doctor, about some of the nurses on my own ward with patients they treat. But… I just-" She shook her head, turning it to the side… to the door.

Exactly what she expected to be there – someone, an exit, a distraction - Maura wasn't sure, but whatever it was, it wasn't forthcoming, and the conversation had no choice but to free-fall back out of the limbo above them.

"Murderers come in all shapes and sizes doctor." Frost said gently, drawing her gaze back to him. He chuckled . "You know that sweet old woman, Miriam, whose pacemaker you checked on this week?"

The doctor smiled a little at the recollection. "Yes, she's quite charming." She said, even knowing she was walking into a trap – Ian used to do this to her all the time, back in a day when she had so much to learn from him and suffered none of the side effects. A point was coming. Maura took a sip of her wine, surprised by how easily it slipped past her often-too-fussy-for-their-own-good tastebuds, gliding warmly down her throat.

It felt both uncomfortable and comfortable at the same time… as if something inside her recognised how much safer this trap was than the one she had _actually_ fallen into.

Frost downed another significant mouthful of beer. "She murdered four of her lovers over a period of 10 years." He said. "The women didn't stand a chance."

It had to be something like that. Maura knew – but even still…

"Really, Frost," She continued, her fingers running up and down the stem of her wine glass absently. "Don't you ever wonder if she – is a little… _different_?"

"Do you?" She gave him her best withering glance at his question, irritated he had asked it knowing full well the answer. Frost raised both eyebrows in conciliation. "Look, Rizzoli's brooding, I'll give you that." He slid his empty beer glass to join the other two, motioning to the bartender who nodded once and pulled down on a nearby tap. "But after that first incident with Ramsey-"

He said it almost distractedly, without even looking at her, in the way a person speaks when they know_ for sure _the other person is well aware of what they are talking about. Instead, he turned back to her just as Maura felt the blank look sweep across her face, and she watched as his hand slapped softly to the surface of the table in a mixture of surprise and shock.

"You _still _haven't?" He asked, leaving out the rest of the question.

The Doctor shook her head no, feeling it better to let her silence defend her...as frankly she was tired of defending herself on this one point.

She was a little surprised when, rather than press at it, Frost made a subtle secondary action at the bartender that Maura soon realised equated to her own glass being replaced. She considered protesting… but the warmth in her belly and the flush of her cheeks didn't seem quite enough to do so.

"She's just not–" She started, turning back towards the door. "Now Ramsey. Ramsey _is _someone I could imagine being in that place. Aggressive, crass… completely disrespectful." She took a deep breath and twitched her lips to one side. "Jane is-"

She felt the stare before she dared to acknowledge it. "Jane?" the word rolled off his tongue, foreign like a disease. Maura didn't like it.

"-her- name…" She clarified, trying to keep the glare out of her eyes when she returned them to his. "She gave it to me." She shook her head, sighing. "Frost, she was going to attack me today, but she stopped." A full beer and wine appeared beside them on the table and they both gripped their respective beverages. His dark eyes were marked by further question, and Maura shrugged, her fingers curling around the outside of the glass. "She stopped. Because I told her to, because I _asked _her to. And she stood totally still, unrestrained, and…" Her eyes shifted down to the golden-yellow liquid in front of her then back up to the man sitting on the other side of the varnished wood surface. "I didn't feel threatened at all."

Frost sucked his lower lip in underneath his teeth, tapping his finger against the side of his glass. His features never changed, they weren't accusing, or incredulous… just… concerned.

"Ramsey killed Rizzoli's cellmate." He said. The comment initially felt out of the blue, until Maura drew the edges of the earlier conversation together with the words and realised what he was doing.

"Frost-" It was a feeble attempt at interruption, and it died quickly on her lips when he reached across the table and placed a gentle hand over hers.

"Doc-" He said, squeezing lightly. "You _need_ to know."

Mara knew it was coming. Whether in that file or someone else's account, it would become increasingly difficult for her to steer clear of it.

With a resigned sigh she nodded. "Cellmate-" she started to say, then furrowed her brow, a name popping into her memory as clearly as if Ramsey's file were still in her hands. "Macy Collins."

Frost nodded, leaning back again, reaching back to his full beer glass. "Bled out, right in front of us... right in the mess hall." He took a large sip, wiping the foam from his lips with the back of his hand. "They never figured out _how _Ramsey got that shank inside. That woman is… resourceful to say the least."

Maura winced. Frost chased the first sip with another.

"Anyway, Rizzoli lost it, totally." He continued. "We hadn't seen truly seen it – that side of her – until that day." Placing the beer back down again he leaned further back in his chair.

"They fought?" Maura tried to imagine it – surprised with herself how easily the image came to her mind. It sent a chill down her spine.

"Oh yes." Frost nodded, "It was… brutal. Korsak had to use tasers on them both, and Rizzoli-" He swung his leg out to one side of the table and jabbed the tips of his fingers a couple of times into his upper thigh "-She had that damned blade jammed into her leg - bleeding like all hell-" His hand lifted into the air, palm up. "-She _still _managed to break one of the guard's jaws. Fractured her wrist doing it." He broke away from her gaze and stared down at his glass, shaking his head, beer spinning slowly around on its flimsy cardboard coaster. "I've seen black bears less animalistic than her." He said. "Three weeks in infirmary, three months in isolation. And nothing but trouble ever since." He shrugged and glanced back up at her. "Trust me when I say Doc, Rizzoli is dangerous with a capital D."

But Maura had missed everything of his added sentiment, everything except the first two words, which fixed in her mind on repeat, like a record stuck over a scratch. Her glass now hung motionless on its original path to her lips.

"Doc?" He tried again.

"Three weeks?" She repeated, softly. "Are you sure?"

Frost's eyebrows knitted at the question, obviously confused. "Give or take a few days, yes." He said. "Look, I'm not-"

"No-" She blinked, "No, it's fine," A quick shake of her head, and the wine resumed its path. However this time when she took a sip it hovered unpleasantly over her tongue, so much so she had to take a moment to acclimatise herself to it, and the subsequent swallow. She frowned as the words reassembled themselves once again in her mind.

_Three weeks._

"It's just… a very long time to be admitted anywhere for a laceration to the leg. Even a deep one." She added, "Even with a fractured wrist."

Frost shrugged "There was a lot going on back then. The fight was all over the news; the warden was transferred, Jameson ended up in caretaker warden role – so the infirmary was probably a little understaffed for a while. Plus it was basically in lock down, along with the rest of the prison… only Jameson and his orderlies could come and go." He smiled, tapping a finger against the side of the glass. "Jack Roberts was the orderly responsible for her at the time - and I'd normally recommend talking to him if you have questions but..."

Maura's eyes flashed recognition. "She killed him…" She said slowly, unable to ignore the subtle tug at her consciousness that something… something wasn't right.

She slid the glass away from her, suddenly unwilling and unable to drink any more. The tug was turning into a pull.

She caught Frost's nod out of the corner of her eye.

"She killed him."


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: **Thanks so much for the kind comments and reviews and for the comments kicking me in the ass as well :)

I know this is taking a little longer between updates... When I started it I could get something out every couple of days, and now it's stretching out to once a week. For those who think it's too long between I am really sorry, I get it, I do. I don't like excuses, because in the end mine aren't worth much but trust me, I like writing, you know? Actually I love it. Trust me, I miss it too, when I don't write - but I promise this story will be finished, in whatever form that takes, so please don't worry about that :)

And on to chapter 12... *deep breath* Heeeere we go...

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><p>Prometheus - Chapter 12<p>

* * *

><p><em>Severe Intracranial trauma…<em>

_Heart transplant…_

It had been two days since her meeting with Frost, and despite her best efforts she had been utterly unable to shake the feeling of growing discontent every time she thought about it.

The doctor had spent the previous day consumed by questions without answers, her proximity to and treatment of Ramsey an unwelcome catalyst.

She stared at herself in the mirror, gripping the sides of her vanity and holding the gaze of the almost-stranger opposite, brow deeply furrowed, tendrils of damp hair clinging to her face, falling just to the top of the bath towel hooked around her body.

_Type C pelvic Fracture…_

_Coma…_

Maura cycled through the possibilities and potential medical circumstances in her mind, unable to come up with anything satisfying enough for her logical brain. A sense of dread had been twisting around her stomach since she and Frost had parted ways two nights ago, she had gone about the following day endlessly consumed by it. Even an impromptu yoga session on her kitchen floor had been unable to shake it.

_Three weeks…_

There were so many things wrong with it – the injuries that would need to have been sustained to lead to that sort of stint in a medical facility, collided with the reality of the equipment and resources of the infirmary at Bedford Hills. While generally well-equipped, her infirmary was minimally outfitted when compared with a trauma ward. Basic surgical procedures were possible, but nothing of the type required for a three week containment.

Which left…

What?

Glancing at the watch folded neatly on top of the hand towel to her right, she pursed her lips and drew in a frustrated sigh. It was still 6 hours before she was expected to meet with Korsak at the isolation wards.

It was too long.

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><p><em>Something was tugging at the corner of her mind… semi solid, a thought, a dream…<em>

_A memory?_

_It hid behind her eyelids, materialising, pixelated… but she couldn't hold it – it kept slipping through her fingers like sand. _

_Her body ached._

_Her hands ached._

_She shifted, feeling the slide of coarse linen against the small mattress, against her legs. _

_Eyes flashed open, legs and arms scrambling up, out… fighting against the sheet until all she could feel was the cold press of concrete against her hands, knees… forehead. Away.. .away from that sound._

_The swishing sound of white linen like crinkling paper… the sound of-_

_Fear._

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><p>In the end, Korsak had been unavailable to meet her, however had arranged another of his guards – Larry Cartwright – to escort instead. A kind enough man, he was seemingly less bothered than Korsak had been at her insistence that she neither be accompanied inside the cell nor Rizzoli be sedated, and now simply waited outside, turned away from the small window, standing squarely in the hallway.<p>

One of the first things she had noticed when she had entered the block had been the improvement in its temperature – not by much, but by enough that there was no longer a sting in her nose when she breathed. Whether a consequence of the momentary reprieve of the November chill, or a conscious effort on Jameson's behalf, she was unsure, but in her limited dealings with the man likelihood certainly didn't lean towards the latter.

It was easier now, The Doctor noted, being in this space. From the sheer terror she had blanketed with professional calm on that first occasion to the shifting circumstances of the last, her responses and reactions had evolved.

"Hi there."

She tilted her head at the figure hunched over herself on her small mattress at the back of the cell, her forearms braced against her knees, hands loosely dropped between them.

Her eyes remained cast down – curls of ebony casting just enough shadow over her face as to conceal her expression.

"You came back."

The husky words hung thinly in the air – emotionless, distant. Maura had expected something of that nature; an acknowledgement of her presence simultaneously coupled with the establishment of boundaries… except now, more accustomed to her behaviour and less distracted by the potential threat of it, Maura was able to detect the nuances of the tone. And it was far too deliberate to be apathetic.

_Like she is… hiding. Always hiding. _The doctor thought to herself, pulling at the top of her upper lip with her teeth.

"I did-" She answered simply. "-It takes more than a bad temper to rattle me, Rizzoli."

What she had wanted to say, and what she _would _have said in her earlier years of her residency, would have been something along the lines of _'it takes more than a subconscious traumatic reaction to the proximity of others to deter me from wanting to treat you'_… but of the many lessons she had learned from Tait, and even the experience of dealing with people who didn't appreciate such direct honesty, was that often _avoiding_ the truth was the closest way toward it.

Case in point, as a short hiss of breath that resembled the beginnings of a bitter laugh left Rizzoli's lips, dying only moments later in the frigid air. She turned her head away to the right. _The direction of mental construction,_ Maura noted. She would have been extremely curious to hear what she might have constructed…

..if she had said anything.

So Maura filled the silence instead.

"Besides," She said, "-In the last two days I've had the pleasure of an acquaintance of yours in my infirmary, who runs rings around you in the temper department."

She took three deliberate steps forward, so she stood almost directly in the middle of the cell. The intention was to appear neutral – to allow Rizzoli time to relocate somewhere more comfortable – but instead it gave her a panoramic vision of the cell that thanks to the darker woman's lack of movement, was hers to analyse.

The small patch of reddish-brown smudged on the concrete floor drew her attention almost instantly – attuned, like a doctors should be, to any form of potential injury at any given time. Her eyes quickly swept over the space in a practiced appraisal of what it could and couldn't be, and with possibilities catalogued she returned her gaze to the dark haired woman, naturally landing close to the area just above her right hip, finding the prison shirt unblemished.

Second option in her list was discarded.

Maura smiled, pressing time forward by filling it again. "She is certainly… an interesting character." She continued, "Very colourful command of the English language." She tilted her head, watching the woman's expression carefully. "But, she hasn't directly threatened to kill me yet, so you're still winning in that area."

_That_ got her attention.

Under the shadow of unruly hair the dark eyes flashed upward, fixing on the Doctor's face. Maura was ready for her physical reaction to the intensity of them this time – the way her heart sped up and chest tightened, normally accompanied by a sharp breath that she carefully controlled.

With a rattle of chains shifting together and a disapproving grunt Rizzoli slowly stood, rolling her shoulders back and closing her eyes as she stretched her neck to one side. The shift in position exposed several small stains flecked over the top of her right pant leg, on the outside of her thigh, and Maura could now see the way she was holding her left hand over the top of her right, protectively.

She bit down on the inside of her cheek to stop herself reacting, instead choosing to look away, gripping the top of her medical kit as the other woman shuffled her feet towards the left-most wall. She slid down it until she came to a stop with her hands concealed again between her knees.

"This won't take long." Maura promised, closing the distance between them and lowering herself next to her.

Rizzoli's head fell back against the wall as the doctor snapped on a new pair of gloves, eyes staring distantly, far beyond the confines of the cell. Maura was almost ready to break the silence with another anecdote, when the woman spoke.

"You're…from Chicago."

The doctor paused, her fingers involuntary clenching around the suture removal kit. While certainly an innocuous statement, it was the first time Rizzoli had offered anything in the form of conversation, and it caught her off guard. Maura had been prepared for almost _anything_ else.

Concealing the reaction by pretending to take an extra moment to find what she was looking for, she turned back, "I lived in Chicago." She said, her fingers finding the hem of the woman's shirt. "But I was born in Boston." Lifting the material high enough to grant her proper access to the wound, she glanced up. "You're… from Boston as well, I believe?"

To her ears the words staggered awkwardly out of her mouth, tripping and falling over the enormous obstacle course of the context. She regretted the question instantly, watching the muscles of Rizzoli's jaw shifting under her skin, as if she herself were chewing on a mouthful of something equally tough.

"Born and bred." She finally answered. "Until I moved to New York."

"Oh-" Maura was frankly surprised the woman had responded at all, but something in it spoke progress to her, so she continued, attempting to maintain the tone light. She lifted Rizzoli's shirt and undershirt up, bunching it under her arm and pinning it with a small clip, "Where did you live in New York?"

When only silence greeted her question she looked up, finding an expression of perplexed amusement reflected back toward her.

_Oh._

"I'm sorry-" she said, glancing hurriedly away as a warm tinge of red crept up her neck to her cheeks. "-Sometimes I can find it… difficult…to detect non-direct inferences in conversation." Maura reached for the corner of the gauze pad and removed it in one go, revealing a line of neat sutures concealed in new, pink, knitted flesh. "Good." She said to herself, partly to divert the subject and for her own reassurance. "These are good. Okay-" She continued, reaching behind her. "Now this is going to sting a little."

Maura watched the woman lean her head back again, eyes closed, swallowing her winces as she started to gently pick and pull the stitches away. Her abdomen clenched each time one was pulled free, the well-structured musculature under the doctor's hands appearing and disappearing like flashes of lightning. She squinted in concentration, picking carefully until three stitches remained, then two, then finally one.

_"Remember Doctor, no matter who it is, no matter where, be as careful with them as if you were performing neurosurgery on the President."_

The memory lashed her, causing the last stitch to tug. A soft hiss of pain escaped through Rizzoli's lips and Maura cursed herself inwardly.

"Sorry." She said softly, "That one was a little more difficult than I thought."

_Foolish, Maura_.

She glanced up to find the woman's eyes still closed, lips pressed together in a thin line. Biting down on the inside of her cheek the Doctor wiped an antiseptic pad carefully over the wound and began applying the simpler, less cumbersome butterfly clips.

"These will allow your wound to heal the rest of the way on their own." She explained. "You can take them off yourself in a couple of days."

She applied the remainder of the clips in silence, and was reaching up to undo the clip holding Rizzoli's shirts away from her body when her raspy voice once again permeated the brewing silence.

"Who is it?" She asked.

Maura's fingers paused over the clip, suspended in the same warring limbo as her mind. Her initial comment had meant to break the silence, to offer some light hearted relief from the natural darkness associated with this place. But answering her now – knowing what she knew….

With a sigh, she pressed the ends of the clip together, the material falling from its confinement down Rizzoli's body. She smoothed it the rest of the way down, fingers lingering on the hem of the outer orange shirt as she answered.

"Louise Ramsey."

The tension was immediate; the bunching of muscles and groups of muscles that made her whole body appear taut and sinewy, and she could tell by the faint clinking of the steel links and shifting of the material over her forearms that her fists were clenching and unclenching between her knees.

"Jane?" She called gently, tugging at the base of the woman's shirt.

A quiet breath passed through the woman's lips and slowly, she rolled her head towards her, eyes opening again. Far from being hard or cold or fearful, this time they were… concerned. Warm. Maura allowed the soft scrutiny of her face wash over her, until she heard the sound of steel links grinding together growing louder and more deliberate, and a moment later a hand emerged - pulling its chained neighbour with it.

Maura gasped at the grazes and abrasions that covered the skin, dried blood criss-crossed over the back of her hand and into the creases at the side of her palm. And any question or comment she might have cared to died on her lips the instant fingers wrapped firmly, but gently around her wrist.

"She… would."

Maura blinked at the contact, attempting to resolve both it and the words that had just been uttered.

"Jane?"

"She doesn't need to threaten. She just… would do it."

When she looked up again, Maura froze. A new level of intensity had developed in the woman's expression, dark and unreadable, and this time she was powerless to stop her heart from threatening to hammer out of her own chest. She suddenly became increasingly aware of the shirt material still collected in her fingers, the cool, rough texture almost identical to that of the calloused palm curled around her wrist.

"I-" Rizzoli started, then stopped immediately as if deciding better of it. Her lips pressed together, she looked away, muscles under her jaw working furiously. Maura found herself surveying the creases in her dark brow, the way her eyes were now cast down, away from her own face, blinking rapidly, shifting left and right with thinly veiled agitation. Maura could see the clear outline of shadows circling underneath her eyes, the creases formed close to her lower lids indicative of more than one night with minimal sleep.

Rizzoli's lower lip disappeared underneath her teeth, then returned as she opened her mouth again. "Last time-" She started again, her voice crackling with the effort. "I'm-"

Without thinking the Doctor lifted her free hand, resting it carefully over the battered one holding her wrist. The grip tightened immediately, and Maura heard the sharp inhale that accompanied it, watching as Rizzoli's eyes fell on the point of contact and locked there – breaths short and shallow.

"It's okay." Maura murmured, passing her thumb gently over the back of the woman's hand, "I don't believe you would have hurt me."

Adrenaline was sparking at the intimacy of their contact but the Doctor kept her gaze steady on the dark haired woman, acutely aware of the scar passing backward and forward under her touch, each time sending a cool chill to her stomach.

For a moment, she closed her eyes, and saw her reflection in the mirror of her bathroom.

"I am not going to hurt you, Jane." She said softly. "You don't need to be afraid of me."

The grip tightened further. Maura could feel the bite of the cuffs pressing into the back of her hand, and for a split second she worried that her words may very well have pushed what was already a teetering situation completely over the edge.

But an instant later, she felt the fingers around her wrist begin to loosen, and with a single slow, even breath Rizzoli's eyes fluttered closed, her head tilting to the side to rest against the wall. They sat silently, and it was not uncomfortable, nor oppressive like it had been so many times before. Maura glanced down again at the hand under hers, fingers now hanging, unresisting and relaxed over her forearm. It sent a warm flutter into her stomach, combatting the chills of only moments ago.

She was so distracted by it she almost didn't hear the words slip quietly over the space between them.

"Thank you."


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note:** Yes, I have just written an entire chapter in italics. No, not going through an "I love cursive writing" phase, but in this story Jane is represented in italics and this is a chapter about Jane and therefore... well... Y'know.

It is a little shorter than the others but... hope the undercurrent makes up for it ;)

**Author's Second Note: **The muse had... a moment. A tantrum if you will. Call it a three-week tantrum. However, thanks to the wonderful staples in my review and PM box, the muse and I have come to a sort of.. peace. Yes, that's right, you all kicked me out of writers block. And I seriously, love you for it. Love and am grateful and want to give you all giant christmas cookies (if I could bake. Right now, that's almost a threat, not a reward! Maybe I just get my friend to bake them for you)

So here is to The Rams (you two ladies know it), T, Red, Relhellams, SleepoverMermaid, R&Daffodils, WhatTheHallway (that name makes me chuckle every time I LOVE it), cdownes, Radleks, JenniferBTaylor, IsaBabisa, 4everBooth, AP79, CJ, LoveIsles, D3nsei, Societysnerd, MHolder, Greye, Misadidas, the very kind Guest Reviews and yes YOU crazy Oddsox who followed me begrudgingly from Puzzles (and I love you for it)

And for anyone I have missed, even for those reading silently (yes that means you), it sounds trite, but it's real... thank you so much.

Tx

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><p><em>The grass was cool and damp under her feet. A warm wind whipped at her hair, tossing it across her face. She swept at it wildly – keeping her eye on her prize.<em>

_"__Jane!" _

_She ran, as hard as she could at the thing, darting around shrubs and plants and an over-sized pot._

_"__Janie!"_

_Close… so close… until a pressure at her back forced her into the ground, the air shooting from her in a loud 'whoosh'. She lay below her assailant, a tangle of limbs and hair and ragged breaths._

_"__Get off me, you bum!" She shouted, lurching to the side to dislodge her attacker. "That ball was mine! I got it fair and square!"_

_Laughter ticked her ear. "Not any more, snotface." The young, boisterous voice bounced around her as the weight darted off her and lunged toward the bush to their right. _

_She scowled darkly, until a screech ahead of her jolted her out of her competitive reverie and she lurched to her feet. _

_"__Frankie!"_

_Reaching toward the bush she barely made out the outline of a hand when she grabbed it, pulling forcefully and fearfully towards her, the ball forgotten, ready to stand in the way of any potential threat…. _

_The young, pale face emerged, panting, swatting at his face, arms, shoulders, hair… coupled with choice cuss words that her mother would never approve of… he sported a bright red spot on the side of his cheek._

_"__Bbbb-" He stuttered, teetering towards her on shaky feet. "J-jay- B-b-b.."_

_Suddenly chaos burst forth from the bush, millions of tiny wings and bright yellow painted bellies swirled and darted and swooped at them both. Her heart dropped to her feet._

_"__BEES!" Frankie shrieked, tears pricking his eyes. "MA! BEES!" _

_"__Frankie –" She gasped, __ "__No! You're allergic-"_

_But he was already running._

_She sprinted after him, only partly because of the threat behind them – mostly out of concern for the swelling on his face, his right arm, his leg... panic rose in her throat. _

_"__Ma!" She cried. "Ma!"_

_The last time he had been stung by a bee, they had spent the night in hospital. And her ma had been furious. She watched him stumble ahead of her, skinny arms and legs tumbling over themselves as he face-planted into the grass. Too afraid to stop she simply gripped the back of his top and yanked forward._

_"__Come on Frankie-" She hissed ."Just a bit further… Just-.. " He stumbled again, but this time she caught him, swung him around her and lifted him awkwardly into her arms. She could see his eyes, wide with panic, his face and neck swollen and red, struggling to breathe. She wanted to cry, but she fought the tears that pricked at her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat, let it join the burning in her lungs as she urged them both forward to the back door of the house. "Hang in there, little brother… you hang in there, hear me? Or I swear I'm gonna kick your sorry ass…"_

_A shadow appeared at the top of the steps leading down to the grass, hands on hips, eyes widening at the sight of the dirt-smeared figure barrelling towards her with another in her arms._

_ "__MA!" She called again. "Frankie's been stung!"_

_She was in so much trouble._

_The figure leapt off the veranda and hurtled towards her at a pace she never imagined possible. She could hear the awful gurgling sounds at her ear, desperate gasps for breath as her brother's throat constricted with the onslaught of toxic venom in his system. All of the rivalry, the one-upmanship, the competition had vanished… all that was left was fear and desperation and a choking sob that wracked her whole body when he was pulled from her arms urgently into the ones waiting._

_"__FRANK! CALL 911!"_

_She watched her mother retreat up the stairs, her brother's dangling limbs dwarfed against the larger frame, and sunk to her knees in the grass, balling her hands into fists and pressing them against her eyes so hard it began to sting._

_She heard the sound of shouting from inside the house – frantic instructions barked between her mother and father, and the wailing in the background. _

_Tommy._

_She pulled herself to her feet, staggering forward until she met the edge of the wooden steps leading to their back door. Collapsing against them she shielded her face from the light, burying it between her knees as the tears mercilessly streamed down her cheeks, mingling with the dirt on her body and the dust at her feet. _

_Frankie was going to die, and it was her fault_

_"__Janie?" After what felt like an eternity of silence the soft voice came from above her. Her mother's voice. A creak on the step and she heard the soft gasp. "Oh, Janie…. My Janie…"_

_No, she thought. No, don't find me. I'm not here – I'm not real. I killed him._

_She fought back a sob, her arms tightening against her knees._

_No. Don't tell me. Don't tell me he's dead._

_"__Baby…" She heard the sound of old wood straining under larger feet, growing closer, until a shadow passed over her head and she realised the shadows had shifted since she had last been sitting there… how long had it been, hours? _

_Is that how long it took, for someone to die?_

_Suddenly, there was a pressure against her back and a hand in her hair, stroking it gently, a kiss on the back of the head that was buried so tightly between her knees. _

_"__Janie… Come out." The gentle voice said._

_"__Noo…" She whimpered, heartbroken, desolate. "F-f-Frankie.. He's.. I-"_

_"__You saved him, Janie." The voice cooed softly, rubbing her shoulders, her neck, and back into her hair. Fingers raked over the unruly curls, drawing them outward and smoothing them down against her back, away from her ears and her face, exposing her hiding place. "You carried him. You saved him. Frankie's going to be fine."_

_"__Ma…" She sniffed once, uncertain, and lifted her head, tilting it to her right so she could glance upward – tear-stained, eyes bloodshot. "Ma?" _

_And she was greeted with a warm smile, and a soft hand across her cheek, tilting her head upward, towards her mother's loving gaze._

_"__I'm so proud of you, Janie."_

_A slow, tentative smile grew on her small face, and she wiped a grubby arm over her eyes to rid herself of the evidence she had ever been crying. _

_"__Come on," She said softly, her voice as smooth as honey, stroking her hair. "It's time to get up."_

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><p><em>"<em>_Jane.."_

_The ghost of a hand over her hair… she could feel it still…_

_Her eyes were gravel – difficult, rough, but.. not… blurry, like the times before._

_And… her hands were warm._

_Soft pressure against her temple – she could feel it now. Soft and hard at the same time. Rising and falling like someone breathing. Hard but not dangerous. Hard but-_

_She had been unconscious. She knew that. But- Not… missing._

_She willed her eyes to open. Her tongue, thick in her mouth, moved slowly, licking dry lips, raked against teeth to test- no, not numb, not tingling like they always did. Just.._

_Just… sleeping. Asleep. _

_She'd been asleep._

_"_Jane?" __

_She blinked into focus. Orange – her orange… the chains, the same… her hands.. resting in-_

_Someone else's hands. They squeezed… gently.. Gently? What is-_

_She blinked again._

_The pressure on her temple increased, was this it – was this the moment they did it, the moment they killed her… was this it? She closed her eyes again, exhausted… waiting… sliding…_

_The hand over her hair, she felt it, again. Soft, like her mother's had been soft. Once… once, when she was innocent enough, to deserve it… before-_

_'__Janie… what has happened to you? Where did my baby go?'_

_Against the wall she felt her knees draw to her chest, imagining the wall was the steps, those steps in her memory where her mistakes had been washed away with a smile and a gentle hand and Frankie had been okay and those people…. Those people had been…. _

_"__Jane?" _

_She squeezed her eyes shut as the tears stung behind her eyelids. _

_"__Ma..?" She whispered._

_The pressure at her head shifted away, and she was leaning, falling, falling slowly like snowflakes dancing to the ground. But instead of hitting concrete she felt fingers, soft and warm on her cheek, holding her from the cold. Something softer flitted against her cheek – enough to shield the snow from her face as she lay in it, curled against the wall, soft enough that she could slip again into oblivion, if she wanted to. _

_Except she knew, she wasn't in the snow any more._

_Just in the dark._

_"__Jane, I… I have to go now." _

_The voice, soft, caressed her ears like her mother's had... and did... until- _

_"__I know, Ma." She whispered, feeling the presence shift from beside her, dissolving into the stale air, a fleeting, painful memory. Even still she turned towards it, eyes closed, willing the memory to her once more - there, on the steps, where everything had been okay. She opened her mouth, and the plea tumbled from her lips. __"Please, forgive me."_

_It lilted into nothingness, into the darkness that groped at her, that had become her normalcy now. She saw the memory fading and it stung as badly as she imagined the bees in that bush could have stung... _

_...until__ suddenly a hand, warm and gentle, brushed against her cheek, just like it had against the steps, and she stilled, breathed, and wondered… maybe… maybe after all this, she might, she could-_

_"__I forgive you, Jane."_

_The voice murmured, softly, against her ear._

_And she slept._


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: **Yes, long time between updates again. This excuse? Well, turns out my last little ditty caused a few upheavals I needed to work out and around and through and that... was a bit unexpected and it took (is taking) time. So I apologise (again). Secondly this is short. I know it is. But every little step forward gains momentum, right? :)

Thirdly, it's Christmas/NYE time, and that means for those of us hospitality types, everything-goes-ballisticfortwoweeksandsuddenlyit'sthe5thJanuary and we're sitting hunched over our sixtieth coffee of the day... wondering where the hell the time went... Aka - I promise to give it my best go, I can't guarantee I'll be able to get back to update city like I used to, until after then. But trust me, writing is an escape (when it's not tearing my heart out) and I love it, so I'll be keen to write, when I can :)

**Author's Other Note: **Thank you all, so so much for getting on board with this story - and for reviewing, and sticking with me, and being patient.. Ths thing would have died several times over without you. Oh, and special hi to the newcomers who I've noticed, welcome :) bet you're thinking 'what the hell was I thinking!?'

But anyway, on with it.

T

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><p>Prometheus Chapter 14<p>

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><p>The doctor leaned heavily on her desk, bracing herself with a hand curled around its edge, fingernails digging into the cheaply applied varnish. The thumb and middle finger of her other hand sharply pinched at the bridge of her nose, trying to illicit some clarity amidst her whirling thoughts.<p>

_"__Please, Forgive me."_

Nothing.

She pressed her tongue against the inside of her cheek and squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head, as if that action alone could dislodge the words and the images from her mind.

_"__Ma?"_

Frustrated, she tapped the surface of desk once with her open palm sharply, her other hand coming down on the other side of her body, bracing herself forward. She glanced up through the windows. The doctor was aware of the movement inside the infirmary – the familiar forms of Akerman and Chang drifting in and out of her line of sight as they went about their activities - but no matter how hard she tried she couldn't find any purchase on any of it.

With another sharp shake of her head and pensive sigh, she looked away again.

What had started off as a simple attempt to clean the abrasions on Rizzoli's hand, had set into motion a chain of events that led them to that… _that._

_"Please."_

Those scars…

They were the reason she had stayed. The reason she hadn't simply cleaned the wound, packed her medical kit and left. The reason she had gently encouraged her to let her see them, reasoned with her….

_"__They're cold, and I know they would be stiff. Let me help."_

And the woman had acquiesced silently, leaning back against the wall, watching her, and Maura had turned back to those scars, studying them quietly as her thumb dug firmly but gently into the muscle around them. And she had continued, past the point when she noticed the other hand hanging limply from the chains, past the point a sideways glance confirmed her suspicions and she gathered the hand quietly into her lap as well, which in turn shifted the woman's weight toward her, her head sliding downward onto her shoulder...

And though she had started awake at the movement, all it had taken was a soft touch to her hair and a gentle 'It's okay Jane, It's just me…' and the head settled heavy again and her hands were pliable and relaxed again, and the Doctor had kept going…

Well past the point she should have stopped, should have left. But she couldn't... For some inexplicable reason, she felt more drawn to Rizzoli than she cared to admit. More drawn than she had ever been to Tait.

It was no more than twenty minutes.

But now the memories lingered in her mind so vividly and she could recall them as easily as she could the images on her computer screen - the soft breaths against her collarbone, the twitches of the fingers in hers as she slept, peacefully, against her shoulder… the image and feel of her hands, cleaned of blood and dirt, finally relaxed.. finally _warm_.. as Maura worked her thumbs gently around the scars.

She knew them now. She was a doctor whose job it was to diagnose quickly, effectively. It had taken her only minutes before she catalogued their exact dimensions, deduced their most likely healing pattern over the years… deconstructed it, and inferred potential origin. Through and through, both hands. Clean, effective. Something… extremely precise and sharp. A pocket knife, a switchblade… Weapons she had seen used on her patients before but not- … never in that way.

A shudder ran down the doctor's spine for a second time. Regardless of what it had been, the irrefutable fact remained this woman could not have done it to herself. Someone had done it to _her. _

And _that _had been Maura's most dominant thought as she had carefully lowered Rizzoli, barely-awake, down onto the cell floor, bunching a thermablanket from her medical kit under her head for some meagre level of cushioning, willing her to rest again. Her fingertips tingled at the recollection of her brief touch against Rizzoli's cheek. And that voice... no different to a child's voice, pained... lost...

_"__Please, forgive me."_

Returning her gaze through the infirmary windows the doctor drew herself slowly upright, inhaling carefully as she did so. A calming breath, a steadying one.

What else could she have said?

She was startled out of her reverie by the sound of her phone, the vibrations rattling over her desk's surface. Tossing her hair off her right shoulder with a flick of her head she reached forward, her fingers coming into contact with it the same instant she recognised the caller…

And paused.

_"__Please…"_

With a resigned sigh, she brought the phone to her ear and swept her thumb across the screen.

"Dr Isles."

"Doctor…" Maura closed her eyes against the sound, and found the fingertips of her free hand wandering back down to the desk, pinching its edge. "…I hope I am not disturbing you?"

"Not at all Doctor Jameson." She replied curtly, "I had just completed my final visit to-" She paused, Rizzoli's name teetering on her tongue but for some reason she found herself unwilling to let it go into the man's ear. "-the isolation cells."

"Ah yes… Rizzoli.." Immediately she understood why; the only name she felt more uncomfortable hearing from those lips than her own, was Rizzoli's… something in the way the consonants rolled off his tongue, sounded to Maura as if he were both spitting them out and sucking them in simultaneously. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on edge. He continued. "Sergeant Korsak did mention you arrived early to see her today."

"That is correct. I decided it might be a more prudent use of my time to start there and spend the rest of the afternoon here, rather than breaking up the day."

It wasn't a lie.

"Indeed…" He replied, the slow drawl worming uncomfortably up her spine. Maura made a face and moved the handset half an inch from her ear, suddenly feeling the need for distance between his mouth and her eardrum. "Well I hope your day hasn't been too disrupted, given the amount of time you spent there this morning."

Had she not been holding the phone in a vice-grip from the discomfort of the conversation, she might very well have dropped the phone.

_How much did he know?_

"Was she… difficult?"

"N-no," She replied quickly, immediately inwardly cursing herself at the tone in her voice when it reached her ears. Every misstep with Jameson felt to the Doctor like she was giving him a piece of her, and that idea made her uncomfortable beyond measure. "No." she repeated, more firmly this time. "There were… some complications between my last visit and today."

"Nothing too drastic, I hope." The concern was feigned. Maura's fingers unconsciously tightened against the desk.

"There are still unanswered questions-" She ensured the terseness in her words was clear. "However her immediate medical progress is satisfactory."

"Ahhh-" Crackled through the phone. "Well, might I impose on your schedule just one additional time today, I have some-" He paused, and the doctor could hear a breath being drawn wetly through his lips. She flinched away from the handset again, returning it carefully a moment later. "-information for you, perhaps, that may answer some of your questions."

Maura baulked. Why did every offer or invitation from this man feel like she was being drawn into a trap?

"I… appreciate that, Doctor." She said carefully, measuring her next response. "But- It was not in my schedule to return to the isolation blocks today. Is it not something I could retrieve off the network?"

"I'm afraid this is… particularly sensitive in nature, Doctor Isles." Came the reply. "I feel it would only be appropriate to show you in person."

"I see."

It was only when she felt no more room to inhale that Maura realised she had been holding her breath. Glancing quickly up at the ceiling she shifted the phone away from her far enough that she wouldn't be heard, and allowed the pent-up air to leave her lips in as controlled a manner as she could manage.

"I believe you will find it informative, doctor." The first part of his comment came before she had returned the phone to her ear, and she had to strain to hear it. Her ear was pressed up right against it when he spoke again, an edge as sharp as razorblades.

"I insist."

It took everything in Maura's control not to inhale sharply at the sound, and she bit down on the inside of her cheek instead, clamping her eyes shut.

_Pull it together, Doctor._

"Very well," She replied, the steadiness in her voice again surprising her. "I will be there shortly."

Out through the infirmary windows, just over the threshold of the corridor and the main ward stood Brett Akerman, staring directly at her, a small smile on his face.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: **Hi :) and Happy New Year!

Thank you to everyone still following and reading and sticking by - see? all it took was two days off in succession :) Oh, and some brilliant advice on kicking the muse out of its post-NY hangover.

Hope you enjoy.

Tx

* * *

><p>Prometheus - Chapter 15<p>

* * *

><p><em>"Dr Isles, come in, please."<em>

_She pushed the door gently open, feeling the weight of it against her fingertips, as she fidgeted with the white coat that draped loosely over her scrubs. The summons had arrived via urgently marked email; she had been assisting in an emergency coronary bypass when it had arrived and hadn't come across it until three hours later. _

_Tardiness had never been a behaviour that sat well with the doctor. Her upbringing combined with her own personal values (or perhaps a catalyst for), dictated that she always be at least five minutes early to any engagement. This created within her an innate 'flexi time' when arranging activities. Not only was she a meticulous planner, she just simply was not capable of under-estimating how long something would take her._

_So, while the circumstances of her late reply had been entirely reasonable, she couldn't help the prickle of discomfort sidle up the length of her neck. And that had been **before **she even attempted to ascertain why this meeting was being called._

_Her sense of dread did not improve when she entered the meeting room. A boardroom table, suitable to sit 12 comfortably, took up most of the space within it yet was only occupied by four, all in a row, all seated on the far side._

_In front of her a row of empty chairs loomed – office style, high backs and arm rests and five castors attached to a star-oriented base. A single empty glass was positioned in front of one of them, water jug positioned just to the right. _

_It reminded her of the panel she faced at her dissertation, only more intimidating._

_Her glance flicked between the chair, the glass, and the water jug. Four sets of eyes watched her._

_Three she knew: Dr Carlita Baldwin, the head of surgery, and Drs Henry Cho and Anthony Woodhouse, from the hospital board of directors. A fourth woman, with thin-framed glasses and light hair fiercely bordering her face, the doctor had yet to meet._

_She had more than a sneaking suspicion she wouldn't have to wait long._

_"Thank you for coming, Doctor." Dr Baldwin, the first to speak, waved her hand towards the middle chair in front of her. Of course, the one with the glass. "Please, take a seat."_

_Maura hesitated a moment, lacing her fingers together in front of her. "I apologise for taking so long to respond to your request," She ensured her eyes fell on each person equally, even the one she hadn't met. "I was-"_

_"No apology necessary." Dr Baldwin interrupted her, firmly, but not unkindly. "-You were indisposed. It is an occupational hazard on the emergency ward. Please-" She gestured at the seat again with a tilt of her head._

_Maura willed her legs to move. "Yes, of course." She said, slipping delicately into the chair that had been offered to her. She folded her hands on top of the table and straightened her posture. Her mother had always said a straight back was a confident one. _

_"Doctor Isles you have obviously met Dr Cho and Dr Woodhouse, and we are quite familiar however I don't believe you will have met Dr Nolan. She is, among many things, a forensic psychiatrist and consultant to the FBI. She has been completing a residency here as part of a research project and offered to assist us with our… investigation."_

_Maura's mouth went immediately dry. _

_"Investigation?" she asked, attempting to keep her voice level as her mind raced._

_What were they investigating? _Who _were they investigating? She couldn't remember anything she had done particularly wrong except… _

_The chain around her neck suddenly felt constrictive, and Maura found herself reaching up to pull it away from her body, sliding the ring that hung on it backwards and forwards against the links, spinning as it went. Dr Nolan's eyes darted down to her fingers, zeroing in on the chain, and Maura dropped it suddenly as if it was burning her._

_She had read the code of conduct. She was sure of it. There was nothing explicit about engaging in a sexual relationship with a co-worker unless it was a direct supervisor… admittedly there was a dotted line… _

_Perhaps it was not dotted enough._

_She fixed her focus back on Dr Baldwin's face to find her eyebrows raised, expectantly, and realised she had missed a portion of the conversation. Panic started to settle in her throat, a familiar heat rising up her neck to her ears. Maura blinked and shook her head._

_This was looking worse and worse for her by the minute._

_"I'm sorry," She said quietly. "I- missed what you said."_

_"I said…" It was clear by the creases across her brow that Dr Baldwin was surprised at the need to repeat herself. "We are investigating the disappearance of a significant number of medical supplies over the last two months."_

_Disappearance of medical supplies? They were investigating **theft**? It was impossible to keep the surprise from her face. Maura hoped the relief was not quite as evident._

_Dr Cho, in his first participation within the conversation, pushed a piece of carbon paper towards her which Maura instantly recognised as an inventory report. She had completed several of these in her time at the hospital and was more than adept at reading them – the names of the pharmaceutical products arrayed along one side of the page, their documented usage in the next column, and the astonishing list of negatives in the 'over/under' column._

_Her eyes travelled over the names and designations, frowning at the ones that had been identified as "missing". _

_"These aren't typical drugs that would advantageous to procure for their street value..." She said – "Except maybe-" Her finger trailed across the single line, separated from the others. "This – Klonopin."_

_"An epilepsy drug…" Baldwin clarified. Maura nodded._

_"With known side-effects of agitation, violence and hallucinogenic properties, yes." She answered. "The rest of these I am not sure, the manifest does not read like one worth marketing on the street."_

_She looked up at Dr Baldwin, who nodded solemnly. "That is why we asked you here. We thought you might be able to help us –" She said, "-All these have been taken on interval. The paper in your hand now is a summary of activity over the last two months – the precise reports appear here-" She slid a new sheet of paper across the table._

_Maura took the proffered document, now significantly relaxed. They could not have been investigating her – and even if they had, they would find nothing, as she had nothing to hide… on this._

_"These are irregular dates-" She mused out loud. "As much as you would expect from someone attempting to remove product."_

_"We understand it is calculated, Doctor." Dr Cho said, finally. "We expect it might be able to be traced, if the correct questions are asked."_

_Resolute Maura nodded. Stealing from a hospital? What a terribly insensitive crime._

_"if I hear anything-" She said, "-Rest assured I will let you know." Her eyes darted to Nolan's and held them, allowing every ounce of confidence and reassurance into her words. "The integrity of this hospital is entirely important to me."_

_They dismissed her and Maura left the room silently, aware of Dr Nolan's eyes on her the entire way. _

_With the door safely closed, she let out a tremendous sigh of relief. She simply **had **to get better at managing these situations. She never had anything to hide – if anything they had needed her help. It spun a very different perspective than she was used to, and she smiled._

* * *

><p>Maura folded her arms across her chest as she paused outside the door to Dr Jameson's office, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. There was something eerily familiar about the feeling – she was reminded of that day... waiting outside those meeting room doors.<p>

The image of Dr Nolan's steely glare flashed in front of her minds' eye and she shook her head sharply.

How _naïve_ she had been...

Taking a moment to gather herself, the Doctor lifted her hand and rapped twice, firmly, on the door. If there was anything she had learned in her short time at Bedford Hills, it was that speaking with Jameson necessitated all of her available nerve and resolve.

Today would be no exception.

The door swung softly open, revealing Jameson in a crisp suit and neatly polished shoes. His dark hair had been trimmed – she could tell – and possibly treated, as she was sure the last occasion she had met with him it had been a shade lighter.

"Dr Isles-" The smile that curled at his lips did not meet his eyes. "Thank you for coming." stepping aside with the doorhandle still grasped in his hand he gestured behind him. "Please, do come in."

Maura set her jaw and pulled at the corners of her blazer, stepping purposefully into the room. Her eyes immediately fell on a manila file, open on the desk, and several photos arranged in a rough pile off to the side. Jameson waved his hand toward the empty seat and she approached it, sitting carefully down, her hands clasped in her lap.

_Back straight, Maura. Back straight._

"I appreciate you coming, Doctor." He said, the sound of the door closing like a gunshot in her ear. "I understand you have had a _busy_... morning."

. . .

_"You appreciate of course, given the nature of your... relationship... with Dr Faulkner you could be equally implicated in these allegations?"_

_"I-"_

_"Think carefully about your answer, Doctor. Reputations are... difficult to recover."_

. . .

His voice and her memory collided in her mind and it took Maura moment to extract one from the other, barely recovering quickly enough to hide the pause between his comment and her reply.

"As I mentioned over the phone, Doctor, there were some unresolved issues relating to her medical treatment I needed to address."

Nerves began to prick savagely at her chest, winding their way up the side of her neck to her ears and throat. The feeling was exacerbated tenfold when, rather than moving to the other side of his desk to his own seat, Jameson moved in behind her.

"I understand, of course." He drawled. "Perhaps this may help you."

Her eyes darted back toward the file. Now closer, she could more clearly see the BPD letterhead adorning several of the white sheets of paper, typed words arranged in neat paragraphs, lying amidst yellow scrap Maura recognised as the very same used for police notes. She glanced across at the top photo on the pile, vaguely able to identify the outline of a figure, hunched over at the bottom of a set of stairs – hands wrapped in white gauze…

Her eyes widened.

_It couldn't be-_

"I took the liberty of procuring some information I thought you might find… _useful._" His voice sounded at her shoulder, and her chest tightened instantly in response, forcing her to concentrate completely on her breathing so that she did not give herself away. His right arm appeared in her direct line of sight as he dragged the file slowly towards them both with the tips of his fingers, followed by the photos. In her peripheral vision she could see the profile of his face, less than twelve inches above hers.

"Doctor Jameson… what is this?" She asked, careful to keep her voice steady even as the air felt thick leaving her lungs. "What are you showing me?"

"What you wanted to know..." Jameson leaned down, closer, sliding his fingers over the top glossy photo. Maura swallowed against the lump in her throat and closed her eyes momentarily. The features were unmistakeable - a much younger version than the one in that cell – but the same hair, the same angled face and jaw... It was Rizzoli. "You and I are not that dissimilar, Doctor." Jameson was directly by her ear now, He slid the top photo away, revealing the second – a close-up of a bloodied left hand, "We both find ourselves drawn to …. The _damaged _ones."

Maura felt like she was suffocating, pressed in by the walls of the office and the proximity to Jameson's body… his voice… his _everything. _

"These… are confidential documents." She breathed, without looking up at him. "We shouldn't be able to see these without a court order. We shouldn't be looking at them."

Maura couldn't be sure if the sound that he made was a laugh or a scoff, but it sent that same shiver shooting directly down her spine that was becoming commonplace with their interactions.

"I have a… contact at the Boston Police Department." He paused, and this time, a chuckle was unmistakeable. "Do not worry, Doctor Isles. I am not so without ethics. The file is sealed, yes… But-" He continued to spread the photos across in front of her – 8 in total. "-It is also inexorably linked with the file _you_ refuse to open."

The second and third photos were similar appraisals of her hands, blood pooling from the two matching puncture wounds. But they were not the photos Maura was fixated on. It was the sixth – two, bloodstained scalpels – that caught her attention.

Scalpels.

Maura blanched.

A _doctor's _tool.

"Who…- Who did this to her?"

"A criminal. A murderer." The words slithered into her ears and coiled around her heart. He slipped the seventh and eight photo in front of her, bloodied hands, held out in a similar pose but without the wounds evident in the others. "Just as she became."

And only when his fingers shuffled to the right did Maura see the ninth photo caught between them…

A smashed coffee table. An upturned couch….Two lifeless figures… A living room bathed in red.

Maura gasped, her hand unconsciously flying to her mouth.

"Such a young age… to be so.. _changed_, don't you think?" Maura shook her head very slightly, feeling tears pricking her eyes. Jameson sighed – a deliberate, calculated action devoid of emotion. "Such a pity."

Slowly, he gathered the photos back up into a pile, depositing them carefully into the file and flipping it closed.

"You see, Doctor Isles-" He said. "She is not innocent, not any more."


End file.
